Lacrimosa
by Araceil
Summary: Takashi/Harry. Turned into a Lycan during the war, the Wizarding World turned against him when Voldemort was finished. So his bestfriend takes him to Japan to rebuild his life and blackmails him into attending a Muggle School.
1. Chapter 1

**Lacrimosa**

* * *

_I do not own Ouran Highschool Host Club or Harry Potter, I make no prophet from this work._

Fenrir Greyback developed a creepy obsession with Harry Potter during the war. Finally, in the aftermath of the Final Battle, he gets his teeth into the Boy Hero. Turning him. Despite his defeat of Voldemort, regardless of how the botched turning means he could actually control his Inner!Wolf, the Wizarding World spit at him and treat him like a Leper.

Annoyed and irritated with their attitudes, he ends up joining one of his friends, Megan Jones, in Japan where she works in Kitsune and Kirin Conservation. Fed up to the back teeth of Wizards, he lets Meg convince (re: Blackmail) him into attending a Muggle School – only to end up in Ouran High for the Insanely Rich and just plain Insane where the local Nut Club try to make him one of them because of his 'Animal Charm'.

The hell?

Takashi/Harry, Ritsu/Haruhi, Tamaki/Megumi, Mitsukuni/Reiko

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

"I'm kidnapping you."

Harry blinked.

"What?" he demanded, eyebrow shooting toward his hairline as he took in his apparent kidnapper. She was his age, her hair was shoulder length, dark chocolate brown and pulled back, she had round blue eyes and a small nose with a curious scar peeking out of her hair line. She wore a pair of muddy grey jeans and an old green shirt over a white vest with the sleeves rolled up, a string of blue and green beads around her throat and a long, rather springy Cedar wood wand clutched loosely in her hand.

"You're coming with me to Japan if I have to beat you unconscious with a herring and drag you through customs as a Transfigured Plushie doll," the girl announced, a wicked smirk curling on her thin lips at the thought of doing such a thing.

Harry just stared before eventually asking, "Why?"

She huffed and waved her free hand, flicking a flyaway strand of brown hair from her eyes, "You're a miserable old _fart_ and you could do with some fun," she declared before pointing at him, "What's more fun than a country that doesn't spit on you as you walk past?"

There were a thousand and one answers to that, most of which Harry was sorely tempted to list for her but no doubt she would integrate them into her grand master plan to uproot him and drag him along with her to Japan. When he'd got up that morning, apart from doing his washing and then hanging it out to dry the old fashioned muggle way, he had nothing planned, especially not a move to a foreign country.

He went with the safe answer, the sarcastic one, "Your logic is astounding. Remind me again what kind of Stupid possessed you to date Draco Malfoy back in Hogwarts?" he retorted.

She sniffed and flipped him off, "Temporary insanity, runs in the family, you should have seen my sister's first husband. Gayer than a rainbow, the only way it could get more obvious was if he farted rainbows and pissed skittles," ow, that actually sounded painful. "You're coming with me."

Harry sighed, there was no budging her, "Can I finish my laundry first?" he asked half-heartedly, there was always a chance she would say no.

The girl eyed the neat rows of white washing, drifting gently in the soft breeze before blinking.

"Are those mine?" she squawked flushing bright red staring agog at a pair of skimpy white silk panties with a slight touch of lace and a few white ribbons sewn on.

Harry followed her gaze and nodded, "Yup. You got drunk and apparated into the house, stripped in my living room before tumbling through the floo back to your flat while I was in the shower. I washed your clothes. Jeans and T-shirt are in the living room on the coffee table, by the way," he added before clipping a peg down on the line to hold the last section of a sheet in place.

The girl's pink face now turned bright red as she fidgeted, "Sorry," she whimpered utterly mortified.

Harry smirked, "It's cool. Ginny's reaction was worth it."

* * *

Megan Jones, or rather just Meg, was both the best and the _**worst**_ thing that ever happened to Harry James Potter.

The girl was a Hufflepuff but Harry had decided that, within three days of knowing her, she was a secret Slytherin and plotting world domination with her other Slytherin!Hufflepuff cohorts with no one the wiser. She just smiled mischievously at him when he informed her of this and never did a damn thing to dissuade his belief. If Gryffindors were the Brave ones, Ravenclaw the Smart ones and Slytherins the Ambitious ones, that meant the Hufflepuffs were the Maniacal ones.

They met during Harry's fifth year, back when the Ministry were desperately trying to sweep the mysterious disappearances, the Dark Marks hovering over gruesome murders and the awakening Revels under the carpets. When Delores Umbridge was busy locking Harry in her office and forcing him to carve '_I must not tell lies_' into the back of his hand, he had been at his most stressed and snappish. Everyone was avoiding him, even Ron and Hermione. A soft whim at the back of his head one night had him dipping his hand into his trunk and removing the flute Hagrid had given him in his first year, fingers smoothing over the hand carved wood, guilt beginning to nag at him, he hadn't been to see Hagrid in too long.

It would be a few days later when he escaped to the North tower, hand bleeding and temper frayed, sat upon the flagstones and staring out across the darkened grounds and put that flute to his lips. Just testing it at first but then... then he began to actually play. Nonsense really, the notes just flowed together, it was far from elegant or beautiful but it was... cathartic, yes, that was the word, cathartic, soothing, calming, like it was pulling all that festering anger and releasing it. Or smoothing it into peace. Every night he would escape to the tower to play his music before returning to the dormitory and sleeping quietly and deeply.

It was how he met Meg.

She had heard him play more than once from her dormitory window and decided to find out who it was, he was the last person she had expected but she hadn't said anything, just wrapped herself in a blanket and sat down beside him to listen. Harry had been ashamed to realise that even though they were in the same year, he had no idea what her name was.

The morning after, she came and sat down at the Gryffindor Table, pulled a strand of his hair and demanded he budge over so she could join them. And from that point on, he hadn't been able to get rid of her.

Not that he wanted to actually, Meg really was the best and the worst thing that ever happened to him.

She was a true Hufflepuff, she stuck by him when she learned of the Horcruxes, just shrugging a shoulder and saying '_shit happens and now we just gotta deal with it_' before grabbing a sheet of parchment and listing every disreputable bookshop she'd ever heard of to find some more about the vile things.

She had convinced him to stay in Hogwarts, to use it as his base of operations instead of living in a tent in the Forest of Dean, really, she came up with much more convincing arguments than Hermione – though they mostly consisted of blackmail and threats. Still it was a good idea as the rest of the country became more and more chaotic by the day, Revels became more and more common, Aurors dying left and right, _Imperio_ being toss around like candy.

It was how Harry got one of his more serious injuries, a _Sectumsempra_ to the back as he walked to the top of the Marble Staircase. A thin pale white scar ran from his right hip up to his left shoulder, a testament to Madam Pomfrey's skill that it was just a line and not a rope, a testament that he was still alive and functioning and capable of moving anything below his waist. He had ended up not only with spinal damage, near-death by blood loss but also concussion from cracking his skull as he fell down the staircase to the Entrance Hall below. Hermione saved his life with a series of rapid cast Cushioning Charms, he still had a dent in his skull from where she missed the first step he hit.

Later, holed up in a bed in the Hospital Wing, unable to move, for the potions and the pain, Meg explained that it was a Ravenclaw student under _Imperio_ who had thrown the curse. No one knew who put her under, but it was definitely a Hogwarts Student as she showed no signs of Compulsion until ten minutes after she arrived in the Entrance Hall.

His recovery was slow, Meg, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna and Ginny often left the school on Horcrux Hunts, Meg would always tell him everything in detail while Hermione and Ron tried to down play just how life threatening some of the scrapes they'd gotten into really were. It caused Hermione and Meg to have a massive all out bitch fight between the two of them right in the middle of the Hospital Wing, they eventually calmed down, but only after Neville physically ripped them away from one another and shouted at them so loudly that even the Portraits were cowering in their frames by the time the usually docile Gryffindor had finished.

Weeks passed as Harry's strength gradually returned, though he was able to walk and talk and sit up and move, he still found things like running or magic beyond him, he was weak and it frustrated him. When Meg mentioned his musical escapades to Hermione one evening, the bookworm blinked in surprise before a light bulb seemingly went off above her head, then she bolted out of the room. Twenty minutes later, she came in and enlarged it.

A harp.

A large peddle Harp, the strings were a little frayed, the paint faded and old, and Hermione was beaming as if she had just discovered the way to attain full Human Rights for House Elves and Goblins.

During his recovery period, one would quite often hear faint strains of music floating from the Hospital Wing, Harp or the Irish Low Whistle – the little so called '_flute_' that Hagrid had carved for him. It was difficult at first, the Harp needed repair and tuning first but eventually – with a lot of help from some of the more musically orientated Portrait Figures, one in particular a stern faced old woman called Madam Sofie who used to be a professional Harpist drilled him in the basics before sitting back and listening to him blunder through before correcting him. Then came the challenge of finding music sheets where the Portraits once again proved invaluable, Madam Sofie in particular had a large number of Harp music sheets in her portrait which she was happy to fetch for him, she had apparently written them herself but not lived long enough to see them published – indeed, she doubted they ever had been, her husband was hardly approving of her hobby after all.

So Harry learned to master the Harp, though he continued to play the Low Whistle, particularly when Hagrid came to visit, he knew it made the Giant happy to hear his instrument being used, his face would flush with pride when he played, when something he made created such beautiful sounds.

Hermione's knitting seemingly involved into dress-making and embroidery, she was often seen wearing clothes she had made herself because they fit her better, she had unusually long arms and legs and was quite busty so finding clothing that fit was something of a challenge for her at times. Ron was a little stuck but eventually he started looking into Broomstick manufacture, he borrowed Harry's Firebolt and with Hermione and Luna's help managed to get through the Copywrite Charms on it and discover what made it one of the best brooms on the market. After that, he had an absolute ball of a time designing a specialised broomstick for each position on the Quidditch Pitch. He decided to model a Seeker's Broom first because he knew that it would be the most basic broom with the least done to it, light weight, very few stabilising Charms, increased speed, everything else for the other players could be added. He had done it; his first broom was the Nouge – named by Fleur and meaning cloud in French, an appropriate name as it pretty much was like flying on a puff of cloud.

Luna continued her painting; it was not an uncommon occurrence to see her long curly pale blonde hair pulled back into a sloppy bun by way of two paintbrushes. Neville continued with his gardening, only this time he was beginning to look into cross-pollinations to create new strains of useful Magical Plants, Meg called him a Sadist when she saw the row upon row of pots filled with what he called '_Ivy Thorn_'. He neglected to mention Ivy Thorn was carnivorous. Harry doubted the Death Eaters would ever forget.

Meg had decided to follow in Charlie's footsteps, only she was less wild about the dragons and more interested in preserving the Magical Creatures on the verge of extinction, Snidgets were well and truly safe, no, she was more concerned about the majority of Magical Serpents that Wizards were stamping out from blind fear, rage and hatred for Voldemort. Her true love was the Japanese Kitsune and Kirin, two very rare and very magically powerful creatures, both on the verge of extinction, she went on and on about how when the war ended she would be going out to Japan to join their Breeding programme and conservation efforts, she would see those beautiful and wonderful creatures around the world if she had anything to say about it!

Drifting without a hobby of her own, Ginny kind of just took to going and cooking things for them, she ushered the House Elves away and made sandwiches, stew, desserts and eventually, her own Hobby. She grew to enjoy cooking and baking things, set herself challenges to make each cake more complicated and delicate, more beautiful and get more people to compliment them. Soon, the House Elves were asking her for hints and tips, having watched her from day one and realised her natural talent in the kitchen. At least Molly was ecstatic she hadn't gone down the path of her brothers in Quidditch, Pranks or Government.

Those hobbies kept them sane as the War escalated and the Ministry fell, Death Eaters attempting to storm the castle and subjugate the students, Neville's Ivy Thorn proved a very good deterrent in those days. He seeded the grounds next to the gate with so many of the things that the Death Eaters were practically beside themselves, this meant having to go through the Forbidden Forest to get to the castle, which meant either going through an Acromantula nest, or a Centaur herd. They went through the Acromantula, and even secured an alliance with them, they just forgot that Voldemort wasn't the only Parselmouth alive. And had no idea that what few Slytherin students had sided with the Order had broken Ministry Law – breeding Harry a dozen Basilisks.

They were young, infants really, barely six months old but already the size of a Brazilian Anaconda. An Ageing Potion took them forward a good four hundred years and though they were confused by their changes, Harry explained carefully enough and they were pleased to help him in defending the Nest. Snakes were simple creatures, they cared for very little beyond food, warmth, shelter, sex, a few of the more intelligent ones had other desires, like the python at the Zoo wanting to see Brazil or the Basilisk, driven mad from centuries of isolation and hungry from lack of food wanted nothing more than to kill and consume it's tormentors, the ones who abandoned it.

No active adult Death Eater stepped foot into Hogwarts in those days, the student ones they were ferreted out swiftly enough and confined to a make-shift dormitory where they would be dealt with upon the topple of the Dark Lord but none of them actually set foot into the castle.

Even Voldemort hadn't during the Final Battle.

No one knew what set him off, Harry certainly didn't, maybe it was just impatience, or anger that some school children continued to try and defy him. Hermione theorised he went to check on one of his Horcruxes only to discover it gone, it was a likely idea, and Voldemort knew well and good that the only people who would know he had those damnable things would be Dumbledore and, of course, the Boy-Who-Just-Refused-To-Die.

He tore through the Ivy Thorn, crushed one of the infant Basilisks and Avada'd the others when he couldn't convince them to join him, it was hard to say but it was probably for the better they died in battle. The Ministry of Magic, once they had been rebuilt, would have never stood for their existence and Harry did not want to be the wand to end their lives. He liked them.

His Death Eaters followed in close behind and the Lawns of Hogwarts became a battle field.

With Harry and Voldemort in the middle.

Harry couldn't remember much of the fight, it was too quick, raw instinct, action – reaction, don't stop, never stop, he just _moved_. He was aware of physically attacking Voldemort more than once, of chasing him across the lawns, pushing him back with ruthless, mindless ferocity.

He remembered being struck with a Killing Curse in the back of the head and being flung, like a rag doll, to the side.

He remembered opening his eyes to Voldemort's cruel cold laughter, to Meg and Hermione screaming while Ginny screeched curses and the boys roared in fury, he remembered seeing Neville armed with Gryffindor's sword cleave Nagini in half with a bellow of fury. He was so tired, so weak, his head hurt so much and his body was bruised in a thousand different places.

There was Voldemort. He was facing away. Fenrir Greyback wasn't.

He was staring at Harry with large hungry golden eyes even as the Boy Hero raised his arm, even as Fenrir lunged forward his body rippling into the large iron grey beast that was his name's sake.

And then he remembered, with cold crystal clarity, planting a _reducto_ at the back of Voldemort's head, popping it like a zit – right before Fenrir's jaws locked onto his arm and the world went black.

He woke with a burning fever, restrained to his bed in the Hospital Wing, to Meg's tear stained face hovering above him how she promptly turned and shouted for Madam Pomfrey as she smoothed his hair from his forehead. Why was he so hot? His body _hurt_, a bone deep burning ache that refused to abate, his brain felt too big for his skull, his eyes were tired, scratchy and sore and his arm, he couldn't feel his arm.

He was a Werewolf.

Fenrir Greyback had turned him right before being flung from his unconscious body with the force of Luna's kick, the little blonde woman enhancing her strength with an obscure Ancient Magic Spell to physically _punt_ the horse-sized wolf across the lawns and into the Forest.

But apparently something had gone wrong with the Turning process, it wasn't a full moon and Harry's heart had stopped, he was now more akin to the Lycans of Old than the Weres of today. He could change at will though the Moon still held thrall over him, forcing his transformation and driving his mind insane with the pain of the enforced transformation, there would be less strain on his body and more strain on his magic with the transformation though. Something he would not be able to handle any time soon as he was STILL recovering from dying and having the Horcrux living in his head removed. Harry spent a lot of time in the Hospital Wing recovering from his death and Turning, he played the Harp a lot as he felt his physical body changing ever so subtly every day. A side affect of his botched Turning.

He became a few inches taller, his already pale skin lightened just a touch more, his hair grew longer but calmed down even if it was still hopelessly wild, at least it didn't stick up to the same degree it used to at the back of his skull. He noticed there was no change to his physical speed or his senses beyond his eye sight, he no longer needed those damnable glasses and his hearing was somewhat sharpened, not overly much just enough to that he could hear things of a lower or higher frequency than he used to. And aside from an increased love of meat – any kind of meat – and an aversion to taking orders his behaviour had not changed overly much, he had in fact calmed down a lot, even if it did mean that he was a lot more vicious when he did snap.

When he was well enough to leave the Hospital Wing, that's when things changed.

The knowledge of his newly infected Status had somehow spread to the rest of the Wizarding World who, in true wizarding fashion, avoided him like the plague, a few spat at him, called him a monster and ushered their children away. A few, the smart ones, approached him, thanked him and apologised for his awful circumstances before going on their way, he preferred them. But everyone else's behaviour just made him wonder if this was why Fenrir had managed to get so many Werewolves to join his Pack when he offered them revenge. Ah well, Hermione had taken up a job in the Ministry during his recovery period and she was working hard to bring equal rights to Werewolves and House Elves – though concentrating more on Werewolves.

Ron was continuing with his Broomstick designs, only now 20-percent of his profits were going towards funding a Werewolf sanctuary where they could go and get Wolfsbane Potion and spend the Full Moon locked in a specialised room where they could be comfortable and entertained by a multitude of squeaky toys. Harry spent his first full moon in there due to the need for observation, to make sure nothing went wrong, his botched Turning was always a cause for concern amidst the others. But no, he had the time of his life, pouncing on the squeaky things and gambolling around the room, sniffing at things and gnawing on the old beef joints. The girls were of the opinion that his wolf form was absolutely beautiful while the guys were warning him never to transform near Hermione or Ginny or he would find himself being pinned down and made '_pretty_'. He didn't know what idea was more scary, Hermione armed with ribbons, or the possibility of getting cursed while his back was turned again.

The remains of the DA had closed around him, snarling at the rest of the world and protecting him from the worst of the bigots, the one time Draco Malfoy had attempted to make something of his Furry Problem Ginny booted him in the testicles. His friends and the other survivors of the Final Battle had become incredibly protective and defensive of him, he was their Wolf goddamnit and no matter what anyone said they weren't going to let anyone hurt him. Or at least that was what Neville told him when he asked what the hell everyone was doing.

Which had probably led to this.

Harry had defeated Voldemort in April, the sixth to be exact, it should have been his sixth year at Hogwarts, he spent two weeks in the Hospital Wing before spending his first full moon in the Sanctuary. After that... he lived alone for the most part until October when Meg dragged him out and onto a plane heading for Tokyo, Japan. She had a house just outside the city, paid for by the Conservation Team she was working for, Harry was going to live with her as it would be too dangerous to have a werewolf in the middle of a Muggle City. Especially one as big as Harry. Normal Wolves do not grow to the size of Shetland ponies.

It was October the eleventh when Meg and Harry moved into their little house, it was nice, traditional Japanese styled with a few Western touches for comfort – like the double beds and the dining room table. There were only two rooms, Harry took the one that overlooked the back of the house and the fairly nice garden – Nev would have a field day with the landscaping while Meg took the one at the front of the house, incidentally she also got the biggest room but Harry preferred it like that.

Harry had to register at the Japanese Lycanthropy Office, it was Law and Japan was known for being tolerant of those with Lycanthropy in opposition to England. The JLO would ensure that the house was fit for Werewolf occupation, reinforce the basement, provide him with monthly doses of Wolfsbane Potion and, should he enter into a relationship, provide help and support for his other half in dealing with a Werewolf. If he found it difficult holding a job due to his affliction, then they would find him paid work that was flexible enough to allow his monthly absences. It took a great amount of effort not to feel extremely bitter and angry with the English Ministry, if they'd implemented this then people like Fenrir wouldn't have had such a huge power base, there wouldn't be so many hurt and angry werewolves out there just wanting to strike back and hurt those who hurt them.

It was November twenty third when Meg yet again turned his world on its head.

Sitting in the back garden on their little wooden porch with his Harp resting against his shoulder as he played an adaptation of Metallica's Nothing Else Matters(1).

Meg had arrived in the doorway, looking at though she were going to interrupt before smiling and sitting down on the floor, content to wait until he had finished playing before saying her piece. She loved listening to Harry play, he did it less than he used to but it just made his music seem all the more precious when he did.

She worried about her best friend, she really did, he had been so quiet and though he didn't act like it, he was withdrawing from them. He pretended like it didn't affect him but the mistreatment the Wizards gave him now that he was a Werewolf _did_ hurt, it was the original reason why she suggested taking Harry with her to Japan when she chatted with Ron and Hermione last. But they had been there for all of a month and while she had been getting stuck into her work, she damn well knew Harry hasn't left the house once.

Well, that was going to change.

"I'm blackmailing you," she told him as the last notes faded away into nothing. Harry blinked and arched his eyebrow at her, "You're going to this school," she added throwing a magazine at his feet.

"Really now?" Harry asked dryly, setting the Harp aside and leaning over to grab the magazine. Meg nodded happily; she had given this a lot of thought, listened to what Harry told her before making some enquiries on his behalf. Kirin conservation was _big_ in Japan, a lot of very wealthy and influential people gave them rather sizeable donations to ensure the success of the programme, she had been at a Charity Ball with several of those individuals when she had asked some questions about Muggle Schools in the area, schools that would not only have a _very_ good security system but people who wouldn't care how rich your were or whether or not you were nobility or had health problems. Three out of five people recommended the Ouran Academy and after doing a little digging, Meg decided it was perfect.

"Here's your registration papers," she added, passing him a packet of papers she had gotten from the school's Superintendent, Suou Yuzuru, a very shrewd and intelligent man with full knowledge of the Magical Realm and a passing understanding of the role Harry Potter played in it, along with how to handle Lycanthropes. Evidentially, Harry wouldn't be the only werewolf attending the school.

Harry arched an eyebrow at her, picking up the packet, "Shouldn't there be more... blackmail for something like this?" he asked lightly.

Meg gave him a Look, "I have your underwear hostage and the floo addresses of your fangirls," she told him.

Harry was already pulling a pen out of his pocket by the time she mentioned '_addresses_'.

* * *

The next full moon was a little rougher than either of them were expecting.

It seemed as though Harry's Inner!Wolf understood that they weren't in their home territory, that the rest of the Pack were elsewhere. It made him anxious and restless, the basement was nearly trashed by the time morning rolled around and Harry pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, whimpering slightly at the bruises and cuts and bites that littered his arms and legs. While he may have retained control, his Inner!Wolf was still nervous, that relayed into trying to get out and chewing on things, even himself.

The JLO had a Medi-Wizard on his doorstep that morning, as was procedure after every Full Moon, to give him a thorough check up and advise on what kind of foods to eat for the next three days until the Moon was visibly waning away from Full. The Werewolf population in Japan was fairly small, one wolf to every three hundred magicals, so the Ministry liked to keep an eye on them, make sure they were taken care of and weren't infecting other people. Having Lycanthropy in Japan was a little like having Cancer in the Muggle World, specialist care and special consideration from others.

Harry sighed as he lounged on the roof, he'd escaped Meg for the afternoon but he knew she would be trying to drag him to the Centre tomorrow, she thought he didn't get out enough, personally he just said he had no interest in wondering unknown territory. Still, he was a little bored and it had been a while since he had gone and done something physically intensive...

He'd always wanted to learn hand to hand, something he had been perhaps only the slightest bit jealous of Dudley for, unjustifiably in any case.

Wushu, Muay Thai, Taijiquan, Shaolin Boxing, Bagua Zhang, Xingyi Quan, Karate, Taekwondo, Judo, Kung fu, MMA, Aikido, and those were just the ones he knew of that he might have a chance of learning. Sumo was beyond him, Kendo was interesting but he had no interest in _having_ a weapon and more in _being_ a weapon. Less chance of being unarmed unless someone quite literally took his arm off. So far he was leaning more towards MMA and Muay Thai simply because there was a Gym down the road that offered both along with Western White Collar Boxing.

He sighed, he needed to work on his Japanese anyway, why not attend the lessons and make some friends willing to mock him in Japanese so he can return fire. Bantering usually helped him learn languages oddly enough, he was fairly fluent in Bulgarian and Russian, knew a bit of Norwegian and Mandarin Chinese from some of the people who attended the Twi-Wizard Tournament and from listening to the multicultural students at Hogwarts.

Getting to his feet he slid down the remainder of the roof and hopped off into the second floor balcony where his room was. He had to do this quickly before Meg found him and dragged him out to tramp in the mud and fight through Kitsune illusions and get electrocuted by tetchy Kirins.

Grabbing his wallet he snuck downstairs and skittered past the kitchen where Meg was grumbling and nursing a bottle of milk with a mutinous expression. Slipping his trainers on, he opened the front door as quietly as possible before slamming it shut behind him as he legged it down the road.

"Harry! HARRRY!"

Meg's bellowing dwindled and Harry chuckled as he slowed down in front of the Gym, she wouldn't bother following him on anything that wasn't a car or a broom, he was the fastest out of everyone in the group.

Hitting the buzzer he spoke in what he hoped was passable Japanese, "_Res-sun no yoyaku ga dekimasu ka?_" he questioned, the person on the other end seemed to be a little surprised by the accent but never the less agreed and told him to push the door open and come upstairs.

It was a narrow hallway leading up a flight of stairs to a small well with a mirror on one wall and another flight leading up a further floor where a collection of shoe-racks were waiting for him along with a pretty European woman with a strong jaw and black eye.

"Hello, didn't expect to see someone from England this far East," she greeted him cheerfully as he toed his trainers off, "I'm Kate."

"Harry, nice to meet you," he said, shaking her hand, she had a good grip, no doubt she was a fighter here too.

"Now, you said you wanted to book onto a lesson right? What kind?" she asked, leading him into the main Gym Area, it was fairly large, lots of blue mats on the floor, a punching bag hanging from the ceiling in one corner, a door at the far end reading toilets and a proper boxing ring, one wall was full of rather tired looking pads – no doubt the group pads. The office seemed to also double as a shop for all the sporting gear.

"Um, wasn't quite sure. I just knew I'd go crazy sitting around at home for another day doing nothing. I gave some thought to both Muay Thai and MMA but I'm not quite sure what they entail," he admitted a little sheepishly.

Kate nodded, "No that's fine, I often get some Japanese in here asking the same questions. Right, MMA is also known as Mixed Martial Arts, it's a bit of everything all mixed together. It tends to have a fair bit of grappling and ground wrestling though, that's put a few people off it and judging by the look on your face you aren't too keen on it either," she pointed out with a laugh at the way Harry's nose scrunched at the idea of having to roll around on the ground with some complete stranger, not his idea of fun. "I do Muay Thai myself so I can probably give you a little more information, I'm just one of the fighters so I don't know the technical stuff that Sensei will but Muay Thai is otherwise known as Thai Kickboxing. It's the original Kickboxing before it got watered down for us Westerners," she explained as she drew up a few forms from one of the filing cabinets, Gym membership forms he assumed, "Basically, it's using your whole body in a fight, knees, elbows, fists, feet, not sure if heads are legal but I've seen it done in illegal Street Fights in downtown. Muay Thai is pretty much considered one of the more vicious and effective of Martial Arts, at least by the Thai, they have their soldiers learn it as basic unarmed combat training."

Harry hummed thoughtfully, "When's the next beginners Muay Thai?" he finally asked after thinking about it.

"Wednesdays at about seven-O'clock, the Beginner's course doesn't require you get your own kit, but the Improver's – the second set up from it – does. Here, the registration forms, the equipment list, our timetables, prices and a leaflet advertising our next major Muay Thai cage fight. If you've never seen professional Muay Thai it might be an idea to show up," she advised him with a smile. Harry nodded and filled in the forms, Beginner's Course along with Gym Membership and Insurance for roughly a year cost him about what he assumed was nearly ninety pounds in Yen.

Hmm... he was probably going to get a few bruises from this, he should stock up on potions – bruise salve especially, and now that he thought about it, he was rather hungry and he _did_ need a new Post Owl. He would love Hedwig forever and a day but... he needed someone to help him carry mail to and from England.

Sighing, the dark haired male returned home, Meg would know where the Magic Quarter was.

* * *

Kick Boxing was actually a relief when he started it.

Stretching, running, the warm up was probably more physically intensive than the actual lesson to be honest, Kate was very good, she would speak her instructions in Japanese and then clarify the parts that Harry didn't understand in English. She never had to repeat herself, Harry may have been a little irritated at first to always pair off with one of the girls, there were only two and he was fairly sure one of them was the daughter of a minor Yakuza while the other one was just very forward. They were good, he stopped minding very quickly as they traded blows and learned the basics. It was fun and Harry soon found himself hesitantly stumbling through conversation with her. Her name was Moriko, no last name was offered and Harry never gave his either.

Amber, his new Post Assistant, a rather beautiful and smart young female Honey Buzzard, had fit right into their lives and turned out to be rather affectionate, not mothering like Hedwig had been but definitely friendly, if rather mischievous.

His next Full Moon was smoother, calmer, it was just hitting December and it seemed as though his Inner!Wolf – which those back home were still debating on an appropriate name for, right now it was a tie between Brush, for his somewhat fluffy tail, and Lobo, for a demonic white wolf in a Computer Game that Meg used to play in the Summer Holidays. Harry preferred Lobo if he was perfectly honest.

Either way, he had just been through a Full Moon a few days before the Ouran Superintendent called him, asking for an interview.

Ouran wasn't what he... It was pink.

That alone nearly had Harry turning around and walking in the opposite direction and living in the basement until Meg got over her weird phase of trying to '_Socialise_' him. Ha, good luck with that.

Still, Suou-san was a very charming man, he didn't look surprised nor overtly scandalised when Harry showed up in a pair of old baggy jeans and his much loved black leather jacket – a present from Sirius for Christmas before his death at the end of his fifth year. The students were another matter.

The girls in their poufy yellow dresses stared at him and clustered away from him in groups, it reminded him so much of the way that the wizards reacted in those first few days of his freedom outside the Hospital Wing that a scowl had shuttered over his face almost out of reflex. No one approached him after that, no one save a young girl who seemed to be late for something as she ran – rather slowly – down the hall and toward what he assumed was the East Wing of the school.

In all, things went well and Harry found out that he definitely had a place in the school, they just needed to finalise everything, obtain records from his previous school and from the British Government and then translate the Magical subjects into Muggle Japanese ones. He just had to choose which subjects he wanted to pursue and then submit to a full Physical examination day so the School records could be up to date as he didn't have a private physician.

Harry had shrugged a shoulder and let him handle all the planning, that wasn't really his thing. He was more of a...

Go in and blow shit up, kinda guy.

* * *

Christmas came and went, he and Meg Portkey'ed back to England to spend it with the Weasleys and everyone else in the Burrow where the two of them received various presents from those near and dear to them.

From Hermione, Harry received a Japanese Hakama and Gi in rich crimson and burgundy with a dark almost bloody gold Haori she made herself following patterns she found online. The Haori had a black silhouette of a Wolf at Full Moon on the back.

Ron gave him his latest Seeker Broom Design, the White Falcon. White Aspin wood, slender handle with a delicate varnish that made it seem like it almost had a silvery blue sheen to it, the twigs were a collection of stripped white Oak bound in a thin streamline bundle with Acromantula silk, not a single one poking out like on the Nouge who's tale was fan shaped yet flat. Just touching it, Harry could feel that this Broom was the best and the most difficult to handle he had ever seen, so light and powerful, the stabilising Charms on it could only be controlled by the flyer the Enchantments were designed for incredible agility but were also controlled by the flyer meaning that _nothing_ on this broom was automatic. One half of your mind had to be on the game and the other hand on actively controlling the Broom. Harry knew that it had been built somewhat like a Wand, there was something in the Broomstick giving it an innate magic that the Enchantments couldn't, a feather from some kind of magical bird, or perhaps it was the Varnish it's self. Harry wasn't going to ask. He just hugged his bestfriend and told him that he was a genius and it was the best broom he'd ever held in his hands. Ron flushed crimson from his ears to his belly-button at the praise.

Luna had painted him a picture; it was all of them in the Lawns of Hogwarts with the long departed dead. Lily Potter had her arms wrapped around her son, James Potter had an arm slung over her shoulder but was busy defending himself from a boisterous Sirius who was laughing and teasing him while Remus stood beside them laughing and Tonks held little Teddy Lupin, the two of them smiling with Teddy clapping his hands, hair bright yellow to match Tonks's bright violet. Albus Dumbledore stood beside his brother, Aberforth, who had his arms folded and a mutinous expression on his face as his older brother twinkled at him. Ron and Hermione were amidst the small army of Weasleys, Fleur stood with her sister, Krum and Cedric who was hugging a happy Cho Chang. He could see everyone, even Snape who was stood beside McGonagall – who was attempting to push him towards Lily Potter to go and talk to her, the old Witch's face was mischievous and revealing her own former Prankster nature. Luna received an extra tight hug and a kiss on the cheek from him.

Ginny made him a large box of cakes and cream treats – they were eaten before the end of the day but she only beamed brighter for their obvious enthusiasm.

Meg had a large present for him, it was a box and it sounded like there were a lot of things in there. Ripping it open he could only blink in surprise at the black 14oz Boxing Gloves, Black shinpads, red Muay Thai shorts, red hand wraps, red ankle supports, Gum Shield and Groin Guard that greeted him. Apparently, Meg had gone to see Kate and had her help in picking out all the equipment he would need for the Improver's Course and all the courses after it along with Sparring and anything that would follow.

Neville had given him a number of paper seed packets; they were his newest Cross-breed, purely decorative and very pretty, easy to care for. They were a surprise though, they flowered all year around so he wouldn't have to worry about dead-heading or more seeds and the like, as long as he kept them in separate pots he didn't have to worry about breeding possibilities – apparently they needed to connect roots to breed like the Mandrakes.

In return, Harry had gotten Hermione two books; one of Japanese Magical History and another on Traditional Kimono making, along with several bolts of raw silk and patterned cotton. She was positively ecstatic at his gift.

Ron received raw materials for another broom, all of the wood from Japan and China, y'know, just to see if there was anything in there he could use. He was excited and already smoothing his hands over the Japanese Cherry Blossom wood to see if there was anything he could get from it, the grain was perfect at least; if he couldn't get a broom out of it he could at least make a nice coffee table.

Luna received a multitude of marker pens and a Japanese calligraphy set, plus paper and ink sticks. She gave him a dreamy thank you and spent the rest of the visit perched in his lap – ignoring the momentary glare Ginny sent her way.

Neville was difficult to find a present for so Harry settled for getting him a little Bonsai tree.

For Ginny it was a cookbook of sweets and desserts unique to Japan and a few boxes of Pocky and traditional Teacakes. She was equally curious about the treats and though she didn't like all of them she loved the Pocky and the recipes were new and exciting, all in all, she was quite happy.

Mrs Weasley made his usual Sweater; this one was green with a black crescent moon on it and a V-necked collar, it made him feel guilty about only giving her two boxes of traditional Tea, Jasmine and green.

In all, it was a damn good Christmas and the New Years Party at Shell Cottage was a bit more wild than anyone expected – culminating in Ginny making out with Dean Thomas and Harry getting caught in a New Years liplock with Viktor Krum.

Then they were back in Japan, Harry had another Full Moon on his own, he was calm though, Lobo – they finally decided on the name – spent most of his time sleeping and chewing on a squeaky bone the size of a skateboard.

Meg eventually did manage to get him to join her at the Reserve where he spent most of his time in his Lycan form helping them track an injured Kirin foal, a young Filly. It was fun though, he couldn't change into his Wolf Form as often as he would have liked, the Full Moon gave him no choice and the pain drove him wild so he needed to remain in the basement or he might attack someone, Wolfsbane or not – the botched Turning ironically rendered him largely immune to the Wolfsbane but he was required by Law to keep taking it. So the chance to cut loose and run wild across pure wilderness was a very welcome one and Harry was considering the idea of joining Meg more often.

April seemed to come just that little bit too quickly for Harry's comfort as he found himself sat behind Meg on her motorbike – he would be getting the train home but she had business in one of the centres overlooking Tokyo harbour and offered to give him a lift in on the first day.

She whistled as they came to a stop outside the building, "Now that's a fan_tastic_ waste of money," she exclaimed in surprise. Harry shrugged as he climbed off her bike and pulled his helmet off before stuffing it into one of the side bags she had on the back.

"What do you expect?" he asked flatly, "These people were born into money, they don't really think much about wiping their backsides with a 50,000 yen note," he pointed out, perhaps a little more judgementally than he normally would but... it just rankled him to see such a waste of money, money that could go to more important or better things. Maybe it was just his upbringing with the Dursleys showing through but Harry was quite stingy with his money.

Meg shrugged a shoulder, "Stay out of trouble Lobo, these people ain't like you or me, their skin isn't as thick so watch your manners and _try_, please honestly _try_ to keep a civil tongue in your mouth. For me," the brunette pleaded, grabbing his wrist.

Harry sighed and patted her helmet, "I'll do my best, Meg, no promises though."

She sighed and waved him off, "I'll see you at home and for god's sake Harry! Make some friends!" she ordered before gunning the engine and peeling away with a roar of sound as Harry waved her goodbye and shifted his backpack and marched into the school grounds.

Again, people stared as he walked past but he merely lifted his chin and continued forward, tightening his grip on his bag strap feeling more than a little out of place and scruffy in comparison to everyone else who had immaculate uniforms and neat and tidy hair.

Harry had taken a more laid back approach to his uniform, his blazer was open, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned a little, his tie was a little loose and he wore a black leather choker and a set of engraved army tags reading his full name, Marauder name, date of birth, House at Hogwarts, Wand wood and core and the words: **D.A. Commander**. A gift from Charlie that Christmas. Around his wrist was his Medic Alert bracelet listing his severe allergy to Silver and several other Muggle Drugs that wouldn't agree with Werewolf physiology, or Wizard physiology. He wore baggy black slacks held up by a dark green belt, a chain wrapped around his waist attached to his wallet hidden in his backpocket, his hair was a little long – he was trying to get it as long as Bill's – and had just enough length to be pulled into a scruffy little ponytail at the nape of his neck. Over his blazer he wore his leather jacket as he had no intention of scraping himself raw if he got into a traffic accident on Meg's crotch rocket.

In all, he looked more like he belonged in a Public School in England than a very expensive Private school in Japan. But he wasn't changing.

The Secretary looked at him as though he had just clawed himself out of a sewer and asked if he could sniff her underwear when he stopped in front of her, "_Potter Harry, I'm the transfer from England,_" he stated sharply in crisp Japanese when he caught her expression, watching as she paled and began to rummage for his timetable, School I.D. and a Map of the Campus.

"_Here you go Potteru-san, you're in Class 3-A, North Wing, third floor,_" she told him, pointing to the location on the map as she handed them over.

"_Thank you,_" he squinted at the little badge on her breast, "_Shirada-san,_" he said before turning on heel and marching off, the woman staring after him in slight confusion.

Class 3-A was apparently the Senior Class for those of very high standing in Japan, begged the question about how – Suou-san had obviously done his homework then, Harry refrained from sighing and hitting the nearest wall. Well, time to face the music.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the sliding door into what he would later dub the beginning of the nightmare.

* * *

(1) http (dot ) / www (dot) youtube (dot) com/watch?v (equals) TCXFcCnhbQA . **I found this while looking for Harp clips, I couldn't choose whether or not I wanted Harry to play the Harp or the Flute, this girl decided it for me. She is very skilled and I definitely recommend listening to her work. If this link doesn't work, try typing into the search engine 'Harp/Harpe Metallica Nothing Else Matters' Look for the brunette playing the harp in her backgarden. She is wearing orange I believe.**

**AND DONE!**

**01/06/10 Just a quick edit to put the page breaks back in.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Lacrimosa**

* * *

Takashi had, of course, heard that they would be receiving a new student into their class, the school was rife with rumours already. He had heard that the boy was a transfer from a private boarding school in Scotland for the Gifted and even a delinquent and had been expelled for killing someone – he hadn't believed that one otherwise he would not have been allowed to attend Ouran.

The person he was faced with as the door to the classroom slid open could have probably fit both requirements of Gifted and Murderer; ergo, he was not surprised that the rumours existed in the first place.

He was striking to say the least.

He was no Bishounen, his features were just a few shades too sharp for that, his bone structure a little too vulpine and predatory, attractive, yes, he was, but definitely not in a classical sense. Long unruly ink black hair scraped back and gathered in a spiky ponytail at the nape of his neck, a fringe too short to be pulled back framed his face in flyaway strands and obscured the greenest pair of eyes Takashi had ever seen on another human being. Along with what had to be a rather unfriendly glower. His uniform was rather... unorthodox but it seemed comfortable enough for the young man in question, Takashi found his eyes lingering on the leather jacket though – that thing looked as though it had been through a war, it was creased and scarred and so well worn it looked as soft and pliable as fabric.

He hesitated in the doorway for a moment before stepping in and sliding the door shut behind him, ignoring the sudden silence in the classroom and the way everyone was staring at him in open mouthed shock and/or horror. Takashi found his eyebrow climbing toward his hairline at the complete lack of surprise or concern on the other teenager's face, apparently this was a common reaction to him if his expression was anything to go by.

There was one unclaimed desk next to the window, Seat 18, not many people wanted to sit there as it was beside Nekozawa Umihito, President of the Ouran Black Magic Club(1).

The figure in the heavy black cloak didn't even earn a glance as the foreigner pulled his jacket off, draped it on the back of his seat and sat down, pulling a plain black canvas pencil case out and an A4 notebook before dropping his bag under his desk and looking out of the window. Avoiding everyone's gaze.

* * *

He was going to throttle Meg for getting him into this.

He could have said no, yes, _**but**_ just _try_ saying no to that woman and you weren't getting away with it, she was worse than Hermione in that respect.

The teacher had asked him to stand up and introduce himself to the class.

He believed he was on the verge of, what was it that Charlie said... '_Smacking a Bitch_'?

With a mutinous expression, he got to his feet, "Potter Harry, nice to meet you I guess. I'm from England, went to school in Scotland. My Japanese is still a bit iffy so bear with me, please," he moved to sit down only for the teacher to gesture at him to add some more, gritting his teeth he rummaged around for something else to add, "I live with my bestfriend just outside of Tokyo, I like music and I have a minor qualification in Animal Handling," Care of Magical Creatures was close enough but it gave him a bit of leeway to possibly have Amber show up with letters if need be. He firmly sat down before the teacher could get anything more out of him. He was here to be bored and maybe learn something, not puke out his life story to a bunch of strangers in Engrished Japanese.

* * *

The first day passed quietly enough, Harry managed to avoid most of his classmates and scare off the others before they could ask any truly stupid questions. He ignored any and all rumours flying around about him – really, they were surprisingly a lot nicer than the ones that followed him at Hogwarts.

He did see some kind of disturbance in one of the gardens as he passed by on his way home, it looked like a tea-party of some such and he could see Morinozuka-san and Haninozuka-san taking part dressed in rather expensive traditional clothing. A proper Tea Ceremony? Unusual. Hermione would have loved to watch or better yet, take part. Maybe when she popped over to visit he would ask his classmates if they would indulge her – while he hid away, far away to avoid getting dragged in himself. Hermione would do that, she said he needed more culture, Harry could swear she was in co-operation with Meg who said he needed socialising. Bah. At least Ron and Neville had yet to betray him.

There was a note stuck to the fridge when he got back, apparently one of Meg's colleagues begged off sick that evening and she ended up getting roped into attending another Charity event. She wouldn't be back until early morning, there were some fresh groceries in the fridge and the washing up was all done, it looked like Harry would be on his own that evening.

No worries.

He had stopped by one of the Libraries in Ouran to swipe some sheet music from a book; he could practice them while she was out.

* * *

School was school, no matter what country you were in.

Harry was fast finding that he couldn't stand school anymore.

He may have loved Hogwarts, he may have loved school before Hogwarts – it was an escape from Vernon and Petunia – but his school years in the Wizarding world were hardly normal, the last two in particular where he found himself actually _teaching_ half the Defence Course in his spare time. It was why he was currently considered on par with a MASTERS degree even though he hadn't even taken his NEWTs. (Speaking of he should probably look into that.)

Ouran was just so... rigid, he found himself physically wrestling with himself as the teacher spoke to him, how his voice was condescending and he spoke slowly as if to an idiot child. His feelings were written clear as day on his face, he didn't think Harry had any right to be in the same building as Japan's elite, whether or not it was because he looked a ragamuffin in comparison or he was foreign Harry had yet to figure out. But either way, the Teacher was testing the limits of his patience.

It had been a week so at least the students had caught onto the fact he would rather be left alone and the rumour-mill had already turned to something else – like a pervert attempting to molest a boy who was having a private examination in a separate room due to personal reasons.

Harry's Physical Examination had been done by a cheerful Medi-witch Ouran had requested specifically, she had been very thorough with him, checking his magic, his physical form and his Lycan form. Aside from a little bit of Magical stress due to his Full Moon transformations, his magic was fine, the scar on his back was completely healed and his allergies were tested again just to make sure, perfume was added to the list. His hearing and eyesight were checked along with, to Harry's great surprise, his sense of smell and his reflexes. His sense of smell had been heightened from his Turning, not by much but more finely tuned, he could identify the different scents that a person made and the one that they themselves excluded. His reflexes were absurdly high according to the Nurse but she shrugged and smiled, it was a good thing though and she admitted that she wasn't surprised, people who grew up in War Zones did tended to have very hair-trigger responses. Their nerves fired faster than other people's even when their hearts remained steady, apparently it was something to do with an increased dose of _Nor-Adrenaline_ in their bodies – apparently cats had a lot of it.

A Full Moon was approaching and Harry could feel the ache beginning to settle into his bones as he made his way to World History class, his reflexes had been dulled by the onset and the discomfort, hence why he had jolted and sworn so violently that a few near-by girls turned pink at the vulgarities.

Someone had dropped a bucket of poster paint over him.

Wiping his face, green eyes sharpened as he looked around for the culprits and spotted a pair of twins, one with flamingo pink hair and the other with baby blue hair in the same style, one holding a bucket and a look of horror on his face while the other one looked equally alarmed. They jolted the moment Harry took a step toward them, legging it as fast as they could to the cafeteria, and sorely tempting though it was to give chase and tackle the two of them in full public view and slather them with the orange paint they'd just splattered over him, it was just too... pathetic.

Harry Potter had just been Pranked.

Inadvertently, yes, but they had unleashed the Beast now.

The child of the Marauders had been evoked and a simple paint smearing just simply _would not do_.

Students would later warn the twins of the sinister smirk and dark chuckle the orange transfer student gave as he turned around and escaped into the boy's bathroom. Only to step out ten minutes later completely spotless – if slightly smelling of the stuff.

A short phonecall to the Weasley Twins and everything was soon to be ready.

* * *

Fred flipped his mobile shut leaning back against his chair and rubbed at his chin, the bristles scratching against his fingers.

"It seems as though some little Kits have Pranked Lobo by accident," he announced to his brother brown eyes observing him seriously. George blinked tilting his head as he hovered over a batch of order forms.

"Oh really? And who would be foolish enough to do that?" he demanded incredulously, everyone knew that Harry was a right terror when he got it into his head to Prank someone. Sure they were damn good pranksters, they learned from the best, from the Marauders. But someone with the blood of a Marauder... now that was a terrifying creature, especially since Harry did not prank people often, meaning that when he did... it was entirely unexpected, extremely publicly humiliating and not to forget _utterly fucking hilarious_ for everyone watching.

Fred smirked as he got to his feet, "Didn't say. Just that there were two of them, boys, a bit younger. Apparently they got him in Cannon's Orange Paint," George laughed.

"Ooh, that's _definitely_ fightin' talk there," he declared. "And what has our most darling and fuzzy beneficiary requested of us?"

Fred marched to the far wall grabbed a sheet of parchment.

"Only our very best services."

"Oh, how... _delicious_."

* * *

Hikaru whimpered peering fretfully around the corner of the hall.

For the past two weeks he and his little brother had been the victims of a series of bizarre and utterly mortifying Pranks. They had no idea who was doing it, just that they were _good_, damn good and utterly _ruthless_ – the very kind of person they strove to emulate, _not become the targets of!_

At first it had just been the one random incident, Kaoru walking into the classroom and sitting down on his chair, only to find that he couldn't get back up again because someone had _**glued**_ him to it. Hikaru had been amused until he went to take a bite of his meal only to find it was practically saturated with _pepper!_ Disgusting! There was an odd powder on his knife and fork that stained his mouth and tongue a dark custard yellow that was so not cool! The dust got on his fingers as well and everything he touched too! His hair now had custard highlights, there was a smear of the stuff on his cheek and his bag and books were a lost cause.

And then there was the time when he had been on his way to PE and suddenly found himself suspended from the ceiling – a paper sign on his back reading something obscene in English, something about Goats and a coat hanger.

And the showers afterward!

HOW IN THE HELL DID A SWAMP APPEAR IN THE SHOWERS!

The two of them were on the verge of tears, Kyouya was going stir-crazy trying to figure out who was terrorising them, Tamaki seemed to alternate between smug approval and horrified concern, Haruhi just shrugged, and oddly enough, Mori-senpai and Hani-senpai were greatly amused by the whole thing. Either meaning that the Seniors were sadists or Hikaru and Kaoru were just unable to see the funny side.

Hard to see much of anything when you were buck-naked and up to your nipples in tepid black swamp grime.

Whoever it was Pranking them, they weren't sure whether or not they were going to have him or her arrested or demand to be taught. Kaoru wanted the former, Hikaru the latter.

They never noticed the third year who stood back and watched the chaos with a _very_ self-satisfied smirk curled on his lips.

Hani and Mori did, and they didn't say a word. After all, it was about time their new classmate made an effort to associate with the other students, even if it did involve giving the twins a well deserved run for their money. Hani wanted to know how he managed to make a swamp in the Boy's shower room but hadn't yet come up with a way to ask.

If he had, Harry would have must smirked and said '_magic_'.

It was true enough.

* * *

Meg had a boyfriend.

Another guy from the Conservation and she had asked if it would be alright to bring him home for the afternoon, Harry had agreed which meant he needed to find a place to kill a few hours before heading home.

He'd heard a few girls discussing a Music Room so he assumed there would be some instruments in there, maybe he could dig out a harp or if not just some sheet music he could play – he had Hagrid's Low Whistle in the bottom of his bag. Questioning a member of staff lead him to finding out that there were about four music rooms and the orchestra pit in the Grand Hall. He had no intention of show casing his Harp playing – it was probably no where near as good as the professionals that Ouran employed and he didn't want to look an idiot beside them – in the Orchestra Pit so that left the Music rooms.

By the time he reached the East Wing he was torn between irritation and boredom, did _no one_ in this school actually use the Music rooms for that they were designed for?

This should be the last one of them on this side of the Campus.

Why did he suddenly have a very sinking and unpleasant sensation in his gut? Like his life was about to take a turn for the worst? It had to be his imagination. Voldemort was as dead as a doornail and Fenrir, as far as he knew, was currently running across England like someone lit a fuse on his Tampon – not unlikely as it was Luna hunting him down.

He was getting paranoid he decided as he gripped the handle and pushed the door open.

'_Rose petals?_' he wondered as the rather bright lights in the room momentarily blinded him, oh god how he wished it had remained that way.

"_Irashai_," the chorus of male voices greeted him.

Harry stared for all of three seconds, taking in the familiar faces of his Classmates and his Victims, dressed in what could only be some very elaborate German Military uniforms – from the Second World War but very conspicuously minus the swastikas.

He stepped back and closed the door.

He did not just see that.

Harry shook his head and marched off down the corridor, right, well, there was always the... uh... the equestrian club and the soccer club and the -

"Harii-chan! Harii-chan! Where're you going?" a sugary sweet voice chirped, latching onto his arm and dragging him backwards.

Harry yelped, probably a little more like his Wolf form than one would have expected, and stumbled slightly as he found himself being tugged and pulled back towards the _room that does not exist!_ He dug his heels in and crouched slightly, pulling against Hani-san's arm stubbornly, staring at his classmate with narrowed eyes as the little blond cake-muncher slowly pulled him closer to the room with the weirdos waiting inside.

"Haninozuka-san, what _are_ you doing?" he finally demanded, leaning back fully with all his weight and strength, somewhat increased now that he was only a few days away from Transformation.

"Takashi! He's not moving!" the blond wailed petulantly, pulling stubbornly on Harry's arm – threatening to dislocate it.

Harry had perhaps four seconds to realise what that meant before he found himself being slung over someone's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"_What the fucking hell!_" he swore, slipping back into English out of sheer surprise, "Damnit Morinozuka-san! Put me down!" he snarled, punching his classmate in the shoulder, _hard_.

Takashi winced slightly as he followed Mitsukuni back into the clubroom, having to use both arms to ensure the thrashing bundle on his shoulder wouldn't be going anywhere, all the while the dark haired male was hissing very unkind words with pure vitriol.

"Put him down Mori-senpai so we can get a good look at him," another voice demanded making Harry actually growl, making Takashi's eyebrow shoot into his hairline as he carefully eased the now seemingly docile male from his now very sore shoulder – he was going to have some nasty bruises when he got home that night.

Harry found his feet and folded his arms mutinously, scowling hot death at the blond man in front of him. So this was Suou-san's son, huh? He looked a little like a Veela but with richer colouring and less glowing. He was also eyeing him like a piece of meat.

"What?" he finally snapped, extremely uncomfortable.

"You're a very interesting guy, Potter-senpai," Tamaki finally said, charming smile on full power, Harry sneered in response. "We've been considering you for a while at the suggestion of your classmates," and here Harry glared at Haninozuka and Marinozuka, the former of which had the gall to smile sweetly at him, "And I must admit, their instincts are very good."

"Already a number of young ladies have expressed an interest in him, designations should not go wanting at any rate," Kyouya stated, his glasses glinting.

"Huh?" Harry grunted, his eyes narrowing.

All of a sudden a pale hand was being outstretched toward him, "We want you to join the Ouran High School Host Club," Tamaki announced beaming at him.

"Haha, no," Harry refused flatly before marching back out the door.

Tamaki blubbered, his eyes welling up, "B-b-but _please?_" he begged, completely disbelieving of the fact that someone could turn down the opportunity to join the _Host Club_.

"No," apparently, he had never met someone like Harry Potter before.

* * *

Meg was pleased and a little pink faced when he got back from Ouran, he had walked instead of taking the train so it was about eight O'clock when he rocked up on the porch.

A dark eyebrow shot into his hairline, "Someone had fun," he observed lightly as he dropped his bag at the bottom of the stairs and made his way into the kitchen.

Meg giggled, completely unashamed, "Oh someone most certainly _did_," she purred dreamily before taking a seat at their little dining room table. "So, how was School? Sorry to kick you out an' all but... It was _sooo_ worth it. Did you do much?" she asked, watching as he pulled out a bag of pasta and one of the pans.

"Mmm, wasn't so bad. Crazy people tried to make me join a club where I flirt all day though," he pulled a face. So not his thing, he didn't know _how_ to flirt and the only way he would be able to recognise when people were flirting with him was when they had a post-it note attached to their forehead reading '_I am flirting with you_'. That or they could go down the road of one Viktor Krum, face rape him and then tell him quite bluntly that he was going to flirt with him for the next few days in the hopes it would eventually get him to agree to go out on a date. Harry had been a little amused as he pointed out the fact he was going to Japan the next morning, so his planned flirting would have to be lavished on someone else.

Meg blinked at him before smiling brightly, "You should join!" she told him enthusiastically, finally, he might get himself a honey and shag that stress out already!

Harry shot her a look of deep disgust as he poured water into the kettle and set it to boil, "No," he growled flatly as he rummaged through the cupboards looking for the strainer, a bowl and the salt.

Meg's eyebrow shot up, "I still have your underwear hostage," she pointed out, surprised that he would actually take the risk of his grundies getting into the hands of Romilda Vane.

"That threat only works for so long, Meg," he pointed out as he took the boiling kettle off the stand and poured the water into the pan before putting the kettle back. There was no way in hell he was joining the Host Club, they were a bunch of Lunatics who pranced around in fancy dress making high-school girls cream their panties with a few flowery words of praise. Oh god no, he would shoot himself in the head if he had to deal with that kind of pathetic... he really had no more words to describe how abhorrent he found the Host Club and its clientèle. Maybe it was the fact that he had fought and lived side by side with Hermione, Ginny, Meg and Luna, they were hardly the same kind of women one would expect to attend Ouran by any stretch of the imagination. Not to mention the other women he knew from the D.A. and the Order. In flower terms, if they attended Ouran they would be the thorns amidst the roses.

Meg sighed, Harry never quite realised how judgemental he could be, he tried not to be – bless him – he just failed miserably when it came to certain things. It wasn't his fault, his childhood with the Dursleys gave him a thick skin and very little social skills, to him Amazonian women were the norm, the pampered Ladies of Ouran Academy were against everything he knew and his Werewolf nature wasn't helping at all especially with the Full Moon this close. Weres did abhor weakness in potential mates – hence why, in her mind, Remus finally gave into Tonks toward the end of the war. She was an Auror, a powerful fighter in her own right, she was young and the strongest female around, because let's face it, the others were either criminally young or much, much too old for Remus – to the point where they were slightly physically infirm, such as Professor McGonagall or Professor Sinistra.

"There's a webcam hidden in your shower," she declared, a complete bluff but he didn't know that.

The look of startled horror on his face almost made her laugh and give it away though.

"So, you'll join?" she asked, smug and hopeful at the same time.

Harry gave her a dirty glower as he turned the stove off and poured his pasta and the water it was boiled in through the strainer over the sink. "... On a probationary basis..." he conceded. Meg was ecstatic; it was the best she was going to get from him at this point in time!

Harry sulked the rest of the evening.

Tomorrow he was under strict orders to go to the Hosts and inform them of his agreement – of course she would be in the house getting her leg over which was really one of the few reasons why she was so enthusiastic.

Harry hated being in the same house when she was having sex.

Meg was a screamer.

* * *

**(1) Umehito Nekozawa**, yes he's in 3B not 3A but... I needed someone to fill in the blank spaces, let's face it, the number of third years we're introduced to is sorely lacking. So basically, every third year that we know of from the manga is now in the same class as Takashi and Mitsukuni.

**And done. XDDD**


	3. Chapter 3

**Lacrimosa**

* * *

Any plan Harry had of going to school, joining a Club that _wasn't_ the Hosts and then proceeding to lie about it to Meg swiftly ended up down the toilet when she drove him in that morning – and then followed him to class.

"_Meg, seriously, I don't need you to follow me, I'll join already_," he growled, narrowing green eyes at her, slightly flecked with amber, Full Moon was tomorrow, he would have the first transformation that evening and be off for the next two days.

The brunette just laughed and waved him off, ignoring the looks her bike leathers were garnering from the students as she trailed along at Harry's elbow, "_I need to give your Teacher the medical forms to excuse you for tomorrow along with my e-mail address so any homework can be forwarded since you decided not to get a laptop_," she pointed out with a broad smile, of course she was also going to meet the two Host boys in his class and tell them about Harry joining, and give them her phone number just in case he tried to duck out. Really, he thought he was going to be able to wriggle free of this, but when it came to Megan Jones getting se- ahem, _her friend socialised_ then nothing was going to stop her!

Harry growled at her, baring his teeth, which only made the older woman laugh in his face. Huffing and stomping towards the classroom he ignored the slight tittering giggles that followed that little scene, apparently the female populace of Ouran found Meg's complete lack of fear amusing – that or the fact that he was all bark and no bite.

Marching past the red headed Ayanokoji, the Lycan shoved open the sliding door, "_There's the teacher's desk, leave the papers and get to work Meg. I don't want Ino-san calling me again because you were late_," he growled ignoring his classmates and pointing at the desk, Meg of course completely ignoring him and sauntering in with a broad smile.

"_Wooow, nice place. They really don't skimp on the expenses here!_" she exclaimed cheerfully, tapping the nearest table, "_Do they replace these every year?_"

"_Yes, I imagine they do. This isn't like Hogwarts where half the money went into Dumbledore's pockets_," he snapped beginning to feel uncomfortable with the attention they were getting, and the way Mitsukuni and Takashi were eyeing the two of them. "_Just hurry up Meg, I have lessons and you're kind of in the way_," he told her, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"Harii-chan! Harii-chan! Who's your friend?" Mitsukuni chose this moment to pipe up, bouncing forward and grabbing Harry's arm, knocking him into Meg slightly.

Harry twitched slightly when Meg's eyes landed on Mitsukuni and her grin became a shade demonic.

"_Oh, aren't you a cutie! You must be one of those Hosts Harry told me about!_" she exclaimed giggling as Harry looked towards the skies and mouthed what looked like a prayer, it was in fact Harry cursing out every Heathen God he knew for the whole situation.

"_Harii-chan talked about us! _Waaaaaai!Takashi! Takashi, Harii-chan told his friend about us!" the blond chirped gleefully, jumping up and down, his hands still latched to Harry's arm, the Lycan wearing a long suffering expression of ire on his face.

Meg laughed, "_Yes. He told me you guys run a club where you socialise with young ladies. That's why he's joining!_" she declared, smiling evilly as she whipped out a piece of paper, "_He needs to be more social, and meet some actual ladies and not the amazons like back home, if I hadn't blackmailed him he wouldn't even be attending Ouran. He'd have probably just gone straight back to teaching, only getting paid for it this time,_" she rambled as she scribbled her mobile number on the paper, "_Here, my number. Tell me if he skips on a meeting._"

Mitsukuni and Takashi stared at her while Harry seethed.

"_I am killing you in your sleep,_" he told her darkly, "_You'll never see it coming. I'll kill you dead. With a rock or something._"

Meg patted him on the head, "_Yes, yes, yes. Down boy. You'll thank me for this later._"

"_Doubtful. __Get to work Meg. Now,_" he growled.

Knowing that she'd pushed him that touch too far now, she pecked him on the cheek and left after dropping a folder on the desk. Harry huffed and shook his arm free of Mitsukuni's grasp and stalked to his desk, slumping down in his seat and banging his head on the table.

"Harii-chan?"

"My name is Harry. No -chan," the British boy bit out without lifting his head, "If you _must_ attach an honorific, just go with -kun, Mitsukuni-san."

Mitsukuni blinked slightly, usually everyone referred to him by his nickname in the Host Club, only Takashi used his first name, the little blond beamed, maybe it was just the fact that Harry was foreign and didn't hold the same attachments and taboos regarding names but Mitsukuni liked the fact that he was so familiar.

"Neenee, who was that?"

"One of my best friends, Jones Megan," he explained lifting his head and grumbling.

"Best friend?" Takashi echoed doubtfully, they didn't seem all that friendly in that exchange, Harry especially.

He nodded, "If she weren't my best friend, she would have never been able to get away with half the shit she usually does. Like blackmailing me to attend Ouran, joining the Host Club, the move to Japan, stuff like that."

"She blackmailed you into attending Ouran!" Mitsukuni squeaked, "B-but -"

Harry rolled a shoulder, wondering how to answer that, clearly not getting why Mitsukuni was so surprised he was able to attend, "My last year at school was very... chaotic, I spent over half of it in the Hospital. I was quite advanced for my age so the Government said I didn't have to graduate or go back to school if I didn't want to," he explained, editing out as much as possible, like the fact he was _teaching_ the Defence Classes by that point, that his teachers were either dead or in St Mungos, that Hogwarts had been blighted by repeated Terrorist attacks, that the Ministry wouldn't have let him go back to Hogwarts even if he wanted to – Werewolves didn't belong in her auspicious halls.

Mitsukuni decided to brush it off and giggle, "Tama-chan'll be really happy," he declared leaning on Harry's desk, "He got upset when you wouldn't join yesterday."

Harry propped his head up on an elbow and pulled a face, "I still _wouldn't_ be joining if Meg wasn't threatening to sell webcam footage of me in the shower to fangirls back home," he sneered, sticking his tongue out in severe dislike. Mitsukuni's eyes practically bugged out of his skull.

"She can do that?" he squeaked.

"I don't put anything past that girl, she's planning World Domination, I swear," Harry explained poking Mitsukuni in the forehead, a smirk beginning to form on his mouth, "She's secretly breeding an army of Kitsunes and Kirins at the Nara Reservation, she's going to use them to help her do it, she's got connections with the Dragon Reserve in Romania too," he told the smaller Host seriously, watching large brown eyes get even wider in excitement and disbelief. Really, it sounded like he was lying and teasing the littlest Host, he wasn't, Meg was in charge of the Breeding Programme, her marks in Care of Magical Creatures were the highest seen in Hogwarts for fifty eight years and she was in contact with Charlie.

Takashi smiled slightly as he watched his cousin become swiftly enthralled with the tales the foreign boy spun, intellectually Mitsukuni knew that it was all fantasy but his more childish aspects would not only find it incredible but fascinating to listen to.

It took the bell ringing and the Teacher coming in to pull the littlest of the Hosts away from Harry's desk.

* * *

"Did you hear, the new student from England is joining the Host Club!"

"I heard, he's cute but I'm not sure if... well, I've heard that he's not very _nice_."

"Mm, yes, he's rather abrupt but... did you see the way he was chatting to Hani-kun earlier? It was so cute!"

"Teehee, maybe he's just rough around the edges, yes? Tamaki-sama will make him into a gentleman in no time."

"Heehee, I wonder what type he will be? Oh I do want to find out. Will you Designate him with me?"

"Yes, of course, I must admit, I am rather curious myself."

* * *

Tamaki's voice was very shrill, piercing even, and for someone who's hearing was as sharp as Harry's, the gleeful _shriek_ the Frenchman uttered _right next to his ear_ was _**painful**_.

Ergo, regardless of what anyone said, Harry felt it was perfectly within his rights to smack the other teenager and roughly shove him away, rubbing at his ears, "_Jesus fucking Christ Suou, ever hear of Volume control?_" he demanded, falling back into English as he winced rubbing at his ears. "_I think my ears are bleeding_," he grumbled.

Tamaki however was not to be deterred.

"This is magnificent! I knew you would see things our way, like the beautiful garden of manliness – " and he was off, blathering about women and men and duties and other things that Harry had already tuned out as he studied the room around him. A large number of circular tables, elegant rose flower arrangements, very delicate, very expensive tea sets... it was a nice room, a few orchestra instruments hidden away in a discreet corner of the room, several couches and a few coffee tables occupied the centre of the room and there were a few side doors – one of which oddly enough led to a small kitchen.

Harry gave Tamaki a flat look, "I'm only here on a probationary period," he pointed out, freezing Tamaki in his place. "I don't do social well, and I don't see much point in this Host Club. Frankly I have better things to do with my time than deal with giggly little girls whose sole purpose in life seems to be to squirt out the next generation and look pretty."

At this point, the twins burst out laughing, having to use each other as a support before falling to the ground and rolling around. Kyouya's eyes were slightly wide and the clipboard in his hands a little slack while Tamaki was completely flabbergasted at the idea someone could have such a low opinion of any woman while Mitsukuni and Takashi were a little surprised but not overly alarmed. Seeing Meg that morning had pretty much opened their eyes to how different the girls that Harry associated with were compared to the Ouran ladies – and hadn't Meg pointed out that all the girls he knew from '_back home_' were practically Amazonian?

The bespectacled Host hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head, "Tamaki, considering Potter-san's attitude..." he gave the other boy a measuring look that was perhaps a touch cooler than he would have before, "I don't think – "

"He stays," Tamaki barked, not looking away from Harry who twitched, startled slightly with the abrupt nature of the blond Host, "He stays, Kyouya, because he is _perfect_," the blond crowed, launching himself at Harry who promptly dodged aside, green eyes wide as the blond twisted around and posed dramatically, "There are a million-and-one flowers within the Gardens of Ouran, yet, our Host Club only sees a Princess in our midst, never a _Queen_," he declared, pointing toward the ceiling, he was really getting into it, "Never a _woman_. Never someone with something to _prove_ and a desire to speak with one who would hold the same _fire and passion_ as herself. Try we may, but admit it Kyouya, only _you_ have ever truly engaged with such women and even then, you found your techniques lacking," the blond announced, finally looking away from Harry to stare at his classmate.

"But what kind of Host is he?" the twins chorused.

"I doubt we can call him a '_Fiery Host_'," Hikaru continued.

"That would just sound dumb," Kaoru pointed out.

"Do I get a say in this, at all?" Harry asked flatly.

"No," Takashi told him just as flatly, planting a hand on his head to prevent him from running away. Harry glared at him.

"Why the hell not?" he demanded, only to roll his eyes at the other Student's silence, "_Oh bugger you then_," he grumbled watching as the discussion about his 'Type' got more and more heated – and ridiculous – between Tamaki and the two younger years. "Who are they anyway?" he asked, so far he only knew Mitsukuni, Takashi and Suou-san.

Mitsukuni giggled, "You know us!" he chirped, bouncing onto Harry's arm, the green eyed teenager grunting slightly as the blond clambered up his side to perch on his shoulder, hugging Takashi's hand to his head. "That's Tama-chan over there; his dad's the Superintendant of the school. He's arguing with the twins, Hikaru and Kaoru, they're the Hitachiin Twins. Their mum's a famous fashion designer. Kyouya is the one in the glasses, his Dad owns most of the Hospitals in Japan, he's in charge of the Host Club's finances," the little blond explained, pointing to each member in turn. "Haru-chan isn't here yet, but he's our special Scholarship Student, his Dad is an Okama."

Harry frowned, peering up at Mitsukuni, "Isn't the Scholarship Student a girl?" he asked flatly.

The room instantly fell silent as Tamaki and the twins looked at him in horror while Kyouya and Mitsukuni blinked.

"What are you talking about, Haruhi isn't a girl! Ha-ha-ha!" Tamaki exclaimed, sweating like a pig.

"No way is that guy a girl!"

"The manliest of us all!" the twins chorused.

Harry stared at them before looking at the door where the person in question was stood, blinking at them with large chocolate brown eyes, "Fujioka-san, are you a girl?" Harry asked flatly.

"Yes," Haruhi answered, a little bemused about why someone was actually asking.

Tamaki and the twins shrieked.

Mitsukuni laughed, "How'd you know?" he asked as the three more energetic – re: moronic, members of the club clustered around their Princess scolding her for revealing her secret like that.

"I have good instincts, and the internet is a wonderful thing," Harry stated absently, watching the mayhem with disbelief, "Are they always like this with her?"

"Yup!"

"Good god, I'm buying that girl a beer when we get out of here, she needs it," he muttered, Takashi's hand tightened on his skull.

"You are underage," he admonished making Harry stick his tongue out.

"Only in Japan," the younger teenager retorted, "I've been legal to drink myself stupid for a while now," Takashi's hand tightened further, "Oi, quit it or I'll bite your hand off," Harry warned, growling at him again.

Mitsukuni giggled, "I know! I know! Tama-chan, Tama-chan! He's a '_Feral_' Type! Feeeraaaal!" the Senior sang, launching himself off of Harry's shoulder and onto the floor where he pounced on Tamaki. Harry taking this opportunity to duck free of Takashi's hand and playfully snap his teeth at him, causing the taller male to yank his hand back in alarm before snorting slightly at the smirk playing on the younger's mouth.

"A '_Feral_' Type, AB Bloodtype, skilled in Chemistry, Defence, Animal Handling, Occult, Astronomy, First Aid, Botany and Sports, but also a delinquent with a very long rap sheet and more trips to the school Hospital Wing than any other student on record," Kyouya listed reading off of his clipboard, no doubt he had accessed Harry's old records to come up with it, thankfully though he had stumbled across the Muggle friendly version, Harry didn't want to know what his reaction would be if he found his REAL subject scores. "The Gifted Bad Boy."

Harry snorted, "I'm fairly sure I wasn't in the Hospital Wing _that_ much," he refuted, not even giving the second part of that sentence acknowledgement.

Kyouya's eyebrow shot up but he didn't say anything, the bespectacled Host had, in a fit of curiosity, accessed Harry's medical files to do a little snooping. What he had found shocked and horrified him. What kind of school allowed its students to end up in such a state almost every year?

Strangulation, shock, sensory overload, third degree burns – at _eleven years old!_

Post traumatic stress, shock, hypothermia, **shattered** arm, elbow joint and shoulder, irregular heart beat – at twelve, not to mention the evidence of a deadly snake bite that was self-doctored, amazingly he survived.

Concussion, pneumonia, shock, adrenalin crash, exhaustion, delirium and bruising to the chest – at thirteen, along with brief episodes of inexplicable collapsing.

After that, the rate and severity of his injuries took a startling leap up

He would have to keep an eye on the older boy, he refused to allow any harm to come to his customers or fellow club members – if he proved to be a threat then some subtle encouragement from Tachibana would have him leave Japan soon enough. Thus far, he seemed to be nothing more than a delinquent constantly getting into trouble, a _Yankii_(1). How on earth someone of such standing managed to make it into the A-Class was beyond him, he would have to do some research into the Potter Family.

"Ah! It's time! Positions everyone!" Tamaki crowed, catching sight of the clock, "Our Princesses await! Harii-senpai, just stick with Mori-senpai and Hani-senpai for today, they'll show you the ropes!" the exuberant male told him before artfully arranging himself on a chintz chair to greet the customers. Harry narrowed his eyes before he found himself being steered to the back of the group to stand beside Takashi while Mitsukuni occupied a spot just in front of Tamaki to the left.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, he had a feeling he was going to want to kill something or someone by the end of the afternoon.

* * *

He was right.

The greeting had gone _alright_ he guessed, the girls were nervous but also curious, it seemed as though Mitsukuni and Takashi's presence had put them to ease enough to ask questions and chat at him. Quite often they asked questions that he wasn't able to answer, not without giving away something about the Wizarding World, the war against Voldemort or his scorn for the people in the school.

"Ne, Potteru-Senpai, do you have a girlfriend back home in England?" one of the girls, a bubbly first year, asked.

Harry shrugged a shoulder, "No, not anymore," he admitted uninterestedly as he sipped his tea, it was good stuff – though he still preferred Tetley.

"What happened? Did you dump her?" the other girl, a brunette, asked, her tone somewhat torn between scandalised and intensely curious. Ah, a gossip monger.

"No," he stated flatly, looking out of the window and yet again wondering just why he was here instead of elsewhere. Maybe at home playing one of his instruments, or watching TV.

"What happened?" the first girl asked.

Harry refrained from growling, only just, "She hooked up with another guy."

"After you dumped her?"

"While we were together," he corrected sharply. He knew he looked like the kind of person you didn't want to run into down a dark alleyway but why did everyone in this school automatically assume the worst of him? It hadn't been this bad at Hogwarts and that was populated by the most backward ass morons he'd ever met.

"What kind of cakes do you like, Potter-san?" a Third year asked, deftly steering the conversation away from the touchy subject, she was one of Mitsukuni's regulars if he recalled the introductions correctly.

Harry glanced to Takashi and Mitsukuni for some help only find that the sneaky bastards had wondered off and left him with the three girls on his own! Traitors!

"I... never really had much of a chance to try cake," he admitted, "My best friend's mum used to send me her home made cakes on my birthday though," he stated smiling slightly. Molly's gifts of fudge and biscuits and cakes over the years while stuck at the Dursleys had probably been the difference between Harry being how he was now or ending up like Voldemort. Knowing that someone was out there, that they cared, made all the difference.

The bubbly first year latched onto this like a shark onto the scent of blood, "Your best friend's mother? What was she like?" she asked, leaning forward slightly in interest.

Harry twitched slightly, uncomfortable, "Her name is Molly, Weasley Molly," he began carefully wondering just what he should say. He wasn't comfortable telling people about his family and Molly was a member of that family, he doubted if the ditzy first year would have any connections to someone who would like to see him 6-feet under but it still made his fingertips itch at the thought of something or someone threatening _his_ family. _His_ people. "Um, she's a Housewife I guess. She's a fantastic cook and uh... well she has seven children, six of them boys, one girl. Um... She likes green," he trailed off hesitantly at the looks on the girl's faces.

"She cooks the food herself?" the brunette squeaked in horrified shock.

It took a herculean effort not to verbally abuse the young woman, it was difficult though. Harry's temper was not the best to begin with and now with the Full Moon tomorrow it was even more frayed and sore than before, he shouldn't have stuck around for Club activities today, he shouldn't even have come in today. His joints were killing him.

"Yes, she does, and she enjoys it as well," he grit out before taking a sip of his tea, trying to sooth his temper – didn't work so well.

"You mentioned seven children," the third year pointed out, calmly changing the subject from where she sensed were several rather raw nerves, Harry found himself liking her simply because of how perceptive she was, "Are you friends with all of them or just the one?"

"Most," Harry admitted, thankful for the change in direction. "Ron, the youngest son, is my one of my best friends. We met on the train first day of school and been together ever since, minus a few hiccups. Ginny's his younger sister, my ex-girlfriend, only a year younger. The oldest brother is Bill, he works as an Archaeologist in Egypt doing tomb evaluations for an independent Bank by the name of Gringotts. Charlie is the second oldest, he's working in wildlife Reserve in Romania for endangered animals. Percy used to be the Personal Assistant for his Department Head in the Government, he's dead now. Terrorist attack. And then there are the twins, Fred and George. Think the Hitachiins five years from now, a lot smarter, a lot more mischievous and running their own multi-million pound business which they started before they even graduated from school."

The brunette blinked in surprise, "The Hitachiin twins five years from now?"

Harry nodded, "Fred and George are two years older than me. They went from not being able to afford new clothes to '_A Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_' joke shop, they created it, patented it, made every product they use and tested it thoroughly. Coincidentally on the First Years at school, Hermione was not very happy when she found out they were abusing the Firsties," he chuckled, he was very damn proud of the twins for what they accomplished, so what if he gave them the money to start up, they were the ones that made the business _flourish_.

"_A Weasley's_ – "

" – _Wizard – "_

" – _Wheezes!_" the Hitachiins' chorus, popping up behind Harry and staring agog at him with large golden eyes, "_YOU_ know the owners of WWW?" the pair squeaked.

Harry's smirk became a shade devilish, "How do you think I got a hold of that Portable Swamp you two enjoyed last week?" he asked sweetly, their jaws dropped as Harry reclined in his chair looking somewhat like a very large, very smug cat who'd just had the canary, the salmon and a saucer of milk to wash it all down. "Oh, you hadn't figured out it was me yet? For shame, and you call yourselves Pranksters," he tsked and sipped at his tea. "Mitsukuni and Takashi had figured it out," he added with a smirk, eyeing the twins who were still gaping at him.

Hikaru was the one who broke from his stunned stupor first, his hands flexed into claws and for a split second Harry seriously thought the elder of the twins was going to attack him and set his teacup down accordingly so he could put the smack down on the ignorant 16-year-old. Only to have the _'ignorant sixteen year old_' fall to his hands and knees.

"TEACH US SENSEI!" he howled, Kaoru following suit a split second later.

There was a moment of silence as everyone in the entire room stared at the scene.

"No."

The twins bellowed in a mixture of anger and disbelief, "WHAT! WHY NOT?"

Harry rolled his shoulder, "One – I don't prank that often, only when someone gets me first. Two – I teach self defence, not pranking. And lastly, three – _a good prankster never reveals his secrets_," Harry quoted shooting them a look.

Haruhi blinked at him, "Self Defence? What kind?"

Harry glanced at her, "Specialist. Very specialist," he stated coolly shutting the door on that conversation, he glanced up at the clock and got to his feet, "I should be heading home, Kurosaki-sensei should be showing up soon and I need to take my medication, I'll see you all in a few days."

"Days?" Mitsukuni asked pouting large brown eyes up at him.

Harry nodded swinging his backpack on, "Yes. I'll be off the next few days, Health reasons."

* * *

For the first time since coming to Japan, Harry experienced a smooth Full Moon.

Lobo was calm the whole time, aside from the initial pain of the transformation and the snarling whirlwind of teeth and claws afterwards, when he calmed down he spent most of his time sleeping, urinating in the corner and drinking from the Self Replenishing water bowl.

He woke up the next morning bundled into his bed and feeling that raw dry skin itch that accompanied multiple Cleaning Charms upon his person. His whole body hurt. A bone deep ache that made moving difficult as he slowly levered himself out of the bed – dragged a dressing gown on and shuffled painstakingly out of the room and into the toilet down the hall, pausing every now and again to grip the wall and establish his balance.

When he got back into his room and curled up under the bed covers again, he didn't realise he'd fallen asleep until Kurosaki-sensei was levitating him down the hall toward the basement, apparently he'd slept through the whole day and it was time for the Full Moon again. Harry huffed a soft sigh as he was spelled nude again and Kurosaki-sensei left the basement, he didn't even bother standing up, shivering and curling up on the soft brown earth he waited.

And then the pain ripped through him again and his mind drowned in it.

* * *

Fenrir seethed.

Hidden away in the thick dark boughs of the Forbidden Forest the great black wolf snuffed in the undergrowth, hunting the scent of his mate but _not finding it!_ Once upon a time ago he would have been able to find it practically saturating the forest, before he was turned, before he got his teeth into his pretty-pretty little Mate. The wildling, the feral child.

Who would have thought Harry Potter had such an arousing scent?

The old Werewolf turned his muzzle to the air and howled, screaming out his call to the night air. Summoning, calling, announcing, he wanted his Mate.

The first time they met, he had quite honestly thought that divine scent, the heady mixture of musk, rich earth, wind and night, was something else entirely. His imagination. But then he'd gotten closer and realised, his Inner!Wolf instantly to attention. And he'd watched, he'd paid careful attention to the boy – to the Wildling. To the Wolf within himself.

The Wolf had decided whom it wanted, no longer was it so drawn to the Blood Letter Voldemort, but now, now it was drawn to the Free Runner, the shadow that ran through the trees of the forest for no other reason than to feel the wind at his back.

Harry Potter was a survivor, he was cunning and cruel and kind and loyal by turns and only to those he thought of as _his_. He was a Wolf without a Pelt, a Were without a bite.

Fenrir would bite him. Fenrir _did_ bite him.

But Fenrir couldn't claim him.

That little blonde bitch – she broke three of his ribs punting him into the forest. He'd barely managed to limp away by the time the Aurors were scouring the brush hunting for him. They never found him. They thought they knew these trees, they thought they knew the forest, no one could know the forest like he did, like the Wildling had.

Fenrir had waited, patiently.

They would allow him out for his Turning, creatures such as he should never be locked away, and when he was free, when he was True, Fenrir would find him. And he would claim him. Mark him. Scent him. Fuck him.

He would rebuild his Pack, stronger than ever with the Wildling at his side.

But it hadn't happened.

They'd hidden him away. Locked him up and taken him away.

The Werewolf gripped the rough bark of the fallen tree he laid upon, long claws digging into the wood as his body reacted, the sparse coarse hairs bristling across his body. He would find his Pretty Wildling. He would find him, find him, find him. Explore every little inch of his twisted body and taste the flesh of his chosen.

Fenrir would find him.

Yes he would. He would. He would.

* * *

**(1) Yankii**, yes, I laughed when I heard this. Yankii apparently means Delinquent or 'Mini-yakuza'. Compare this with the word Yankee – American – and I was on the floor. As Stalker of Stories will tell you when she explained this to me.

**Hoh, creepy.**


	4. Chapter 4

**LACRIMOSA**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Harry had been off ill for three days.

In that time Host Club activities had carried on as usual though there was definitely an increase in curiosity regarding his absence and a number of the girls asked Kyouya if they could designate him when he returned so they could express their concern and well-wishing. Takashi and Mitsukuni had exchanged bemused glances at this; they were under the impression that Harry was rather ill thought of by the majority of Ouran.

At least he was by the other Hosts who weren't exactly keen on his abrupt and semi-hostile nature.

Armed with cake and Get Well wishes, Takashi and Mitsukuni had actually dug out their classmate's address and paid him a visit one evening only to be ushered away by an apologetic Meg as she explained that the night had been rather rough and he was sleeping now. That had been two days ago now and they were getting more and more concerned.

The two Senior Hosts were sat at their usual seats, pondering how they were going to force Meg-san's hand into allowing them to see their classmate when they heard something of a commotion outside.

"Potteru-san! Are you alright? You look positively frightful!"

"Dude, you look like death. You sure you should be in?"

"Oh my, Potteru-san perhaps you should go back home."

"I'm fine," the familiar voice of their classmate broke through; he sounded absolutely ghastly, "Honestly, I'll live. I'm going crazy at home, I want to be here."

Mitsukuni launched himself from his seat and scampered to the door just as their fellow Host pulled it open, the littlest Host promptly burst into tears and hugged his legs, wailing about Harii-chan still being sick and how he shouldn't have come in. Takashi had to admit he agreed with his cousin.

The Third Year looked awful.

He was pale with a slightly yellow tinge to his face, his eyes were bruised and sunken in, he was trembling ever so slightly and judging from the slow and careful way he walked his joints were in a fair bit of pain as well. They could see Meg hovering behind him with a disapproving scowl on her face as she carried his bag.

"_If Healer Akisame hadn't given you the all clear..._" the brunette girl was grumbling as she followed her bestfriend, she gave Takashi a look, "_He's being completely unreasonable. If he gets worse, _drag_ him to the Nurse's office if you have to. I'll be picking him up at half-past five. _Don't_ let him leave before then. God knows he'll try to_," she complained bitterly as she set his bag down beside his desk and gave him a thorough look over, "_I'm giving the kitchens Akisame's letter so you can't wriggle out of that either Potter. Try it and I'm calling Molly _and_ giving Romilda unlimited access to your grundies._"

Harry nodded, too tired and achy to argue, "_Alright, alright. Go on, you're going to be late._"

"_I already am late. Another five minutes won't change that. I'm picking you up at half-five, I'll see you then,_" she told him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead and sighing, "_Damnit, you didn't deserve this_," she whispered.

Harry's smile was a trifle bitter, "_No one did. Doesn't change the fact it happened_."

The girl nodded and stood straight; ruffling his hair as she stepped back, "_Keep out of trouble at least. See ya_," she called as she made her way out of the classroom – no doubt heading to where her bike was so she could get to work, something that confused Takashi, she was the same age as them and yet she was already working, same age as Harry who admitted that he was actually a Teacher of Self Defence (and he really wanted to know what that was) and had only attended because his friend seemed to think he needed to learn how to be social. Not to catch up on various subjects.

What a mystery.

* * *

School was even more difficult than usual as Harry's temper was on a short fuse and he was in pain every time he moved or remained sitting in a certain position for too long. He just couldn't win when it came to Lycanthropic Joint Pain.

He was somewhat ashamed to admit he did allow it to get the better of him at one point during their History lesson when the Teacher made several snide comments in very swift Japanese – still labouring under the mistaken belief that Harry's knowledge of the language was sketchy at best. The young Lycan ended up clawing the front of his desk so hard he left alarmingly deep furrows in the wood before getting to his feet, ignoring the Teacher's spluttered protestations and simply left the room.

Perhaps not the best way to handle things but he had learned that butting heads with Teachers when they were so assured of their superiority was just a recipe for trouble – at least Umbridge taught him something, even if that something was '_Discretion was the better part of Valour_'. He informed the Vice Principle of the matter through an e-mail using the Library computers before carrying on his History lesson through reading in the library, which was where Takashi and Mitsukuni found him just in time to haul him off to lunch.

At least they had been thoughtful enough to remember his things after he had left them in the classroom.

Lunch was a labour as well.

Healer Akisame – as Kurosaki was apparently on leave for personal reasons – had recommended he get more protein and iron in his diet, meaning he found himself with a rather rare steak for lunch along with a sauce he couldn't begin to pronounce the name of, some vegetables and a glass of fizzy water and a small box of pills.

Harry hated stake.

Actually, he hated beef if he was completely honest. He had yet to find a beef dish that he could enjoy – and Cottage Pie didn't count as it was mostly potato and tomato sauce if done right.

He choked it down none the less. Food was food and he may have hated it but he wasn't going to waste food – and this meal looked to be something the Dursleys would have paid upwards of £50 pounds for. Yikes. The medication almost revisited the world once he swallowed it, they were some kind of special Potions Caplets, a little like a bottomless bag they were tiny little capsules that were enchanted to hold the needed volume of a potion and dissolve upon contact with stomach acid. Meaning that after he took the tablets, he suddenly had a goblet's worth of various potions bursting into existence in his stomach.

That had been... not so fun.

What was it with the magical world and making their medicine the most horrid and difficult things to take in existence? And he knew for a fact that sugar made almost every medical potion completely useless – '_Spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down_' huh? Mary Poppins you dirty rotten liar.

* * *

After lunch was Gym, even though he was ill Harry still intended to sit in and watch.

Today was Tennis which they would be covering for about two weeks according to the Teacher. Harry had never played Tennis before but it looked a lot like that game he and Ron invented 'Spell Volley' which was basically them throwing around a harmless Charm and bouncing it to each other using Shield Charms. Something which became a Life saver during the War, being able to cover your allies and conserve your magical strength by creating a very small localised shield just above your wand and hand to bounce back a spell to it's sender – who was usually so gobsmacked over what they'd seen they didn't get out of the way quickly enough and were struck by their own spell. Last Harry heard the Aurors were trying to figure out how he and Ron had done it, but they weren't having much luck. Ron was staunchly refusing to tell them how due to the Ministry's behaviour towards Harry and they weren't going to ask a Werewolf even if Voldemort rose from the dead and paraded his pasty white snake-butt for all the world to see. (For some reason Harry could also imagine him farting at Dumbledore's Portrait.)

Still it looked like fun and Harry was looking forward to learning.

The only downside was...

"Potteru-kun, look out!"

When something small and yellow in colour came shooting at him, Harry's first instinct wasn't to smack it away...

"Whoa!"

It was to catch it.

Startled out of his thoughts, Harry glanced to his hand – which had annoyingly moved of its own accord – which was wrapped firmly around a tennis ball that had previously been zooming towards his face.

Damn Seeker reflexes.

Even after several weeks training with Moody not to automatically catch objects thrown at him – there was the danger of Portkeys – he still couldn't shake himself of the habit so the old man had just given up, clonked him on the head and told him he would die eventually. Nice guy, good at poker.

"Ah, sorry." He handed the ball back to his classmate with a sheepish look on his face.

"Are you alright? You look dreadful," the other teenager pointed out flatly and Harry for a moment couldn't stop the wry grin that crossed his face.

"I know. And yes, I'm fine. I've just been off sick for the past few days," he explained with a negligent wave of his hand.

The other teenager nodded, "You must have what Tarumi-kun has. He's been off sick as well, apparently there's some kind of bug going around."

Harry could almost feel his whole body come to attention, "My illness is... complicated but rest assured, I will have it for the rest of my life. Does this Tarumi-san fall sick often?" he asked carefully, he knew there were other werewolves at the school, he just hadn't thought he would ever come across one within the first month of school.

The orange haired (almost the same shade as the Chudley Cannons he was amused to note) teenager hummed, "No not really."

"Oh." Obviously not a werewolf then.

* * *

After Gym was Club Activities, which Harry really wasn't looking forward to – apparently they were having a Cosplay event, a glorified costume party/'_Let's play dress up – YAAAAY_' kind of thing.

He could only stare in stupefied horror at the suits of armour – especially when Kyouya pointed him to a set and said that was his.

They were recognisable as suits of armour but... they weren't. They were too light, too thin, too decorative. They weren't armour, they just looked like it. And what the fuck was Tamaki blathering on about? Harry made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat, chewing mutinously on a biscuit as he watched everyone make idiots of themselves – he had refused, on the grounds that he was already sore and feeling rotten, not to wear the armour.

"_What a load of tripe,_" he muttered scornfully under his breath, watching the Host Club King recite his proverb of the day. He turned back to the girls and did his best to ignore the lunacy happening behind him, "Would you like some more tea Daisy-san, Silverbell-san?" he asked politely, he noticed their eyes narrowing on Tamaki, "Ignore the village idiot. He comes from another planet that doesn't seem to realise that not only is it a dumb idea to leave the woman you love behind – because she can and she will follow you – but she's probably also better at fighting than you are." He snorted then at the memory of Ginny doing just that, complete with yanking on his ear and kicking his shins right before she hexed Avery's head clean off its shoulders and turned it into a turnip.

Silverybell's eyebrow slowly lifted towards her hairline, "You sound as though you have experience of this," she said slowly.

Harry snorted, "Ginny had six older brothers, no way in hell am I picking a fight with her," he told them seriously, a wry grin on his face, "She'd kick my ass."

Daisy giggled, "No doubt." She smiled at the obviously foreign boy, he was an odd one, nothing like what she had heard this Host Club represented, "Have you been a member of this club for long?" she asked.

Harry shook his head, sipping at his tea; thank god he had actually paid attention when Meg and Remus went on one of their herbal Tea binges. It was a good thing too; Meg was surprisingly knowledgeable on the subject as she actually had old fashioned Gypsy Blood and learned the old ways sat at her mother's feet. Right now he, and the two girls who had ended up sitting with him, were drinking Alfalfa tea, also known as Trefoil, which was said to be good at purifying the blood, boosting the immune system, helping with arthritis and help to lower cholesterol levels. He had added a little peppermint and ginger to it as well, not the sweetest of blends but it wasn't unpleasant and he could already feel the aches in his joints fading – and the girls weren't complaining, even if the Hosts gave him a really odd look when he was making it.

"No, this is only my second meeting. I had to take a few days off for health reasons, hence the herbal tea. I hope you don't mind."

"No, it is quite alright. It is a very interesting blend. I can't say I recognise it," Silverbell admitted, sipping delicately at the brew, she had tried it first with a little milk and sugar before setting it aside and trying it black. She had to admit she preferred it without the milk and sugar to mess with the taste.

Harry smiled, "My bestfriend Meg, her family come from a very traditional Romany Gypsy clan. They still follow the old ways, wagon pulled by horses, fortune telling, tarot cards, herbal remedies. She and my uncle went off on a major tea binge once and I learned how to make a few teas just from listening to them. This is Trefoil, ginger and peppermint."

Daisy made a sound of surprise, "Such an unusual mixture!" she exclaimed sipping at her own mug, "Why on earth would you mix them together?"

Harry shrugged with a wry smile, "Pain and a little bit of stupidity in the kitchen," he admitted sheepishly.

They were, however, no longer paying attention and instead observing the spectacle Tamaki was making of himself. Harry felt his eyebrow climb up his forehead at the twisted look of scorn that painted itself across Daisy's face and the slight titter of mocking amusement from Silverbell.

"Pfft," the long haired girl snorted, bringing her tea up, "Is that so. 'Even sacrifice my own life'?" she echoed, taking a sip, "Isn't that an egotistical emotion? Are you under the impression that the woman left behind would be happy with just those words?"

Daisy shrugged and nibbled on a biscuit, "There's nothing you can do about it Silverbell-oneesama. Men are lower forms of life who place honour above all else," the little first year sneered flatly. Harry probably would have protested but yeah, she had a point, he had seen far too many guys put their reputations before everything else. Usually got them killed too. (coughcoughvoldemortcough)

"Pretending to be gallant by repackaging it in those sweet words of their own ineptitude of not being able to preserve his own life." Yup, Harry still couldn't find anything wrong with what she was saying, she had a damn good point and he had thought that those idiots from the Founder's Age constantly trying to protect their women and children had it all backwards. If they died, who would be there to protect the women and kids? Teach the girls how to fight and that way the kids would at least be able to survive if the men died – because their mother's would be protecting them, and if there's anything more badass than a momma protecting her babies, Harry had yet to meet it and he never, EVER wanted to. Molly Weasley versus Bellatrix Lestrange was a memory he would have enshrined in his mind for all time.

Silverbell giggled, taking note of the amusement on Potter-kun's face as he listened, "Oh my, Daisy is just too smart."

Tamaki laughed a little, "You are very acrimonious individuals I see. Which type of words would you prefer?" he asked, actually genuinely interested to Harry's slight surprise.

"If it were me," a voice announced from the doorway, "I would never leave her."

A tall woman wearing the Ouran boys' uniform stood there, one arm around Haruhi and clutching at the smaller girl's shoulder protectively, Harry eyed her carefully before nodding slightly. She may not have been an Amazon like Hermione, Luna or Meg, but she could handle herself, even if it was just an unwavering confidence in herself and her abilities – whatever they may be.

"If you're going to fight, then do it together," she continued proudly, "If you can't accomplish it then you should end your life together." Harry frowned at that one, now that he didn't agree with. He had seen too many families completely wiped out because they decided that if they couldn't fight, then at least they would die together on their own terms. Poison Dinners had become something of a common occurrence during the Dark Days, couples sitting down to what they knew was a poisoned dinner, having one last romantic night together, telling each other that they loved them before going to sleep and never waking up.

Harry ignored the ruckus happening around him as he moved to go and put the tea and cups away, Daisy and Silverbell having vacated their seats to greet the other woman and fondle Haruhi – he didn't care what Takashi said, he was buying that girl something alcoholic and strong, she so needed it. Shuffling slowly and painfully to the kitchens he quietly set about washing and trying the things he had used before putting them away and shuffling back out to see the strange woman hit Tamaki.

"Oi, please refrain from hitting the idiot. That's my job," he called over to them flatly, "Plus, its kinda rude."

But he was ignored, Silverbell did however glance apologetically in his direction but he just shrugged and eased himself into one of the couches with a soft groan of pain.

He did have to wonder though how they could fit another uniform under their current one before deciding that he didn't want to contemplate Japanese Magic – because it had to be magic as they showed absolutely no sign of discomfort or any extra clothing hiding beneath the folds.

He had been quite happy to ignore the goings on around him as he tried to rub the aches out of his elbows and finger joints but his ears zeroed in on the conversation the moment the familiar and much loathed word '_halfblood_' hit his ears.

" – using good looks to pile on false love to mock a girl's pure heart," and at this Harry had to refrain from snorting, he had yet to meet any girl who possessed a pure heart, any _human_ than possessed a pure heart. "That right there is degradation of women, it's not enough that you must fill your greed using a Club activity as a front!"

"I'm going to have to protest the '_degradation of women_' thing there, Miss," Harry called from his seat, Benio glanced at the ragamuffin who Daisy and Silverbell actually seemed to have developed a fondness for, "The girls come here _knowing_ what they're getting. True enough I wasn't too keen on the whole thing but that's more because I hate people in general." He shrugged and a spasm of pain crossed his features, "You've got a brain there, Miss. Use it, after the first meeting the majority of the girls here would have known _exactly_ what to expect, hell, look on the internet and you can find the definition of a Host Club. I think you're not giving the girls here enough credit, they're smarter than you're pretending they are."

Benio stared at him before turning away and pretending he didn't exist, Harry couldn't help but shrug, he had expected that – well not really, he had expected a slap which would have been a stupid thing for her to do because then he would have hit her back. He had no distinction between the sexes when it came to a fight.

"I swear I will shut this garbage down!"

Thank _god!_ Harry nearly burst into a song and dance routine, as it was he only grinned excitedly.

Kyouya and the others however, were less than pleased.

"I see now." That, was a very cold look, hm. But then he smiled and it was more than a little mocking, "But since the Club President is now lying down due to culture shock – " and Harry could see him bundled up on one of the Couches, the other Hosts clustered around him he couldn't help but feel their dismissal of the other girls was more than a little arrogant and disgustingly rude. " – would you mind coming back next time, yes?" the bespectacled Host chirped happily.

Benio seethed, "Drag him up right now!" she snarled furiously as she caught the other male moaning about '_lesbos_'. Harry frowned at the words; did Tamaki have a problem with homosexuals? Green eyes narrowed, if he did then Harry was about to have a problem with him.

But it seemed that the 'tea party' invitation to Haruhi was just a step too far for Tamaki to handle, he practically launched himself out of the blankets and wrenched the down to earth girl away from the cluster of Lobelia students, pointing and shrieking at them.

"_You guys are under the wrong impression about something!_" he practically howled, Harry leaned back and took a sip of tea, enjoying the show, "_What kind of productivity is there when women make love to each other? Then why did god create Adam and Eve – __**ACK HOT!**_"

It was only twenty minutes later, after Haruhi had left, did any one notice that Harry was no longer in the room and the tea cup he had been drinking from was shattered and covered in blood.

* * *

It was a good thing Meg wasn't home when he got back.

Harry's black mood, coupled with the woman who 'black mailed' him into joining such a horrid club, was just a recipe for disaster as he threw his bag roughly to the floor and climbed the stairs, digging through the bathroom cabinets until he found the first aid box.

When he had heard Tamaki's demand, that foul loathsome homophobic demand, his temper just snapped. His hand tightened spastically on his cup and he crushed it, sending shards of sharp white porcelain into his flesh and getting blood everywhere. Mitsu-kun and Takashi would worry when they saw the mess he left on the table but he just _had_ to leave before he said or did something that would possibly get him expelled or arrested for grievous bodily harm.

Wriggling out of his shirt and tie, the Werewolf ignored the dull throb of his muscles as he ran his hand under the tap and dug out a pair of tweezers from the box and began to pick out the pieces of white from his skin. It took a while and a little bit of help with a scalpel blade but he managed to get all of the shards out, they were currently sat on a fold of toilet paper while he used some Antiseptic potion on the wounds – they'd run out of Healing potion already.

He was just bandaging up his hand when the doorbell rang.

Grumbling, he got to his feet and darted into his room, dragging on the first article of clothing he found – green tank top – he made his way downstairs and pulled open the door to glare coolly at Takashi and Mitsu-kun.

"What?" he asked.

Mitsukuni wailed and promptly latched onto his waist, "Waaaaaah! Harii's hurt Takashi!" the Third Year shrilled, making Harry's still rather enhanced hearing throb with pain.

"Ow." Takashi nodded and, ignoring the fact that his cousin had probably just ruptured his bestfriend's ears, calmly pushed Harry back into the house. "Takashi, what _are_ you doing? Stop pushing me please," Harry groaned, allowing himself to be shepparded towards the kitchen by his classmates, "C'mon guys, I'm fine. It's just a little bit of china, I'm not going to bleed out."

He was, however, ignored and forced to sit at the breakfast bar, Mitsukuni hopping into the countertop with Usa-chan clutched tightly to his chest as Takashi silently examined his half bandaged hand with critical eyes. Harry just rolled his and tried to tug it away, the silent senior was having none of it and lightly bonked Harry on the forehead before unwrapping the bandages.

Huffing, Harry gave it up and just allowed the other two to do whatever they wanted. It would probably be the last time they associated with him like this, after all, Tamaki had made his opinions quite clear today and Harry would probably not be welcome at the Host Club anymore. No matter, he hadn't even liked it there to begin with – social was not his thing. Maybe he would join the Tennis Club? Equestrian? He knew he smelt horses at some point while wondering around the school and despite his current werewolf/lycan status the animals were always docile with him.

"First Aid box." Harry blinked, startled out of his thoughts at the sound of Takashi's voice, the British teenager stared at him wordlessly for a moment, "First aid box," he repeated meaningfully.

Harry sighed and pointed to the sink, "In there." It was the muggle friendly one in any case.

A quick glance at Mitsukuni sent the little blond scuttling to the cupboard and brandishing the green box enthusiastically as he returned. Apparently the taller male wasn't happy with the way Harry had sorted himself out and was now endeavouring to do it himself. He was more of a mother hen than Hermione was – which was an exaggeration of the greatest proportions but at this point in time Harry just wasn't feeling all that charitable to him when the harsh sting of the muggle antiseptic burned at the cuts.

"Ne, ne, why'd you leave early Harii? Meg's gunna be mad you went home on your own," Mitsukuni pointed out with Usa-chan perched floppily on his shoulders.

Harry glanced to him and weighed his options, "Because Tamaki's homophobia pissed me off and I was an inch away from breaking his arm." At least he was honest about it.

Mitsukuni's chocolate eyes went wide and even Takashi's hands paused in cleaning Harry's cuts as the flow of blood got a little quicker now that the potion he had smeared across them was being wiped away.

"You're gay?" Takashi asked, eyeing Harry without hostility or any other kind of identifiable emotion on his face that he could tell.

Harry tried to pull his hand away but the Japanese teenager held it firmly as he waited for an answer, "Bi actually. But Luna, one of my friends, is a lesbian and she's had to go through a lot of persecution for it simply because there is no '_productivity_' in women being together," he added with a nasty sneer. There was also the added problem of her girlfriend being none other than the Slytherin's Dragoness, Millicent Bullstrode.

There was a moment of silence before, "I don't think Tamaki meant it like that," Mitsukuni pointed out but Harry just shrugged.

"Not my issue anymore. I'm leaving the Club anyway. I said it was only for a probationary time and really, social just isn't my thing. Never has been. Its hard to identify with people like you guys in Ouran when you grew up living like a slave." He tugged his neatly wrapped hand out of Takashi's grasp before the other Senior could prevent him and smiled appreciatively, "Thank you Takashi-san. Now, since you're both here and Meg would have my guts for garters if I didn't at least offer, would you like to stay for dinner? Its cheese and tomato Pasta bake with baby potatoes."

Mitsukuni nodded enthusiastically cheering while Takashi merely nodded once.

The longer they spent with Harry the better chance they had of convincing him to stay in the club. And find out what he meant about growing up as a Slave.

* * *

**And Finito.**


	5. Chapter 5

**LACRIMOSA **

* * *

**A rather long Note:** Some people have expressed concerns about certain things and I'd like to address those here and now before we go any further. Just to explain myself a bit as these points won't actually be explained within the story as far as I have planned.

_One:_ Meg isn't a main character, and she most definitely isn't a Self Insert (where on earth did you get that idea?) this story won't focus on her much, she's the catalyst for various events which is why I've given her a little more pull over Harry than others would. Add to that, Harry has always been a very submissive person in terms of how he is directed in the books and I'm not changing that overly much, he's pretty much given up fighting his _friends_ by this point because he's figured out that, _unlike_ Dumbledore, when they manipulate him – and they do so with his full knowledge, they really are actually trying to do it for his own happiness and not the so called '_Greater Good'_. Anyone else that tries to manipulate him for their own ends is going to get a crash course in yoga by having their heads crammed up their arseholes. As for the Blackmail, its just silliness, Harry knows full well that the worst that will happen is the fangirls will see him naked; it's just embarrassing for him, not life or death. If he truly, really, absolutely, didn't want to join the Host Club, then he wouldn't. He's willing to give it a chance – hence the probationary period – but he knows he doesn't do social well and it's a bit of a case of '_the lady doth protest too much'_.

_Two:_ The feminism thing that cropped up in the last chapter. Yeah, I'm not a feminist. I don't give a damn if people have tits or testicles. However, you need to remember that the Wizarding World doesn't really have sexism as far as I can see, its prejudices are based on blood, power and species. And while he wasn't raised there, he has absorbed some of their culture so to him, Tamaki's slight misogyny (better known as manners in some circles – circles Harry has never seen nor experienced) towards women is just completely backwards and confusing. Add to that, think about the people he's associated with, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Tonks, Molly, McGonagall, Bellatrix – and let's not forget even though he hasn't met her, his mother, Lily. The girls in his life are all fighters, they're all powerful in their own ways so he doesn't understand the way history and other people see women.

_Three:_ I don't hate Tamaki. I just find his attitude and complete disregard for people's feelings annoying. His heart is in the right place but he lacks sufficient people skills or tact to be anything but irritating. The same as with the Lobelia Girls, Harry wasn't getting the full story, he zoned out for the majority and skipped a lot of it, believe me, when he gets the full story – he'll probably hate them a whole lot more than Tamaki.

_Four:_ Harry shifting before the Full Moon to avoid the pain of a forced transformation – he can't. His body aches too much to do a whole lot and forcibly changing his shape would be agonising, he can't win either way but at least with the forced transformation he won't pass out halfway and die because his internal organs are half shifted into wolf and half shifted into human. (I'm taking this idea from Splinching, which was a lot gorier than anyone anticipated, wasn't it?)

_Five:_ Ultimately, the pairing is Takashi/Harry BUT, Harry's not interested in him like that right now so he's more interested in enjoying life as it comes. There will be other pairings with both Harry and Takashi before they hook up – as with all people in real life. You have to kiss a few frogs before you get your Prince.

**I hope that's cleared a few things up for everyone. If you do have more questions, just drop me a Review, I'll answer as best I can on the reply system but if its something I think everyone should know about then I'll pop it up here at the beginning of the next chapter. Anyway.**

**Without further ado, the next chapter. Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Trying to get answers out of Harry was like trying to milk a stone.

All he would say about his childhood was '_it happened, it wasn't pleasant, its over with – who wants tea?_'.

So they decided to drop it, for now, they could see their line of questioning was already fraying an already stressed temper and it wasn't doing Harry's body any good as well. He was moving about the kitchen in a painful shuffle, he was slow and awkward as he moved, his hands shook and he had to stop every now and again as either the pain grew a little too much or he lost his balance momentarily. The other Seniors didn't help him, they knew his pride wouldn't allow it as he went about gathering a few mugs, a sugar bowl, a few teaspoons and a teapot which was then filled with hot water from the kettle. He even brought out a packet of cookies and upended them over a plate.

With everything set onto a tray, Takashi quickly swooped in and picked it up while Harry's back was turned.

The foreign Third Year had not been impressed with the abduction of his crockery but never the less directed them to the living room. Even he knew he probably would have either taken several days to get there or dropped the tray.

The inside of the house was, in all honesty, nothing like Takashi or Mitsukuni had been expecting.

They had not been entirely sure _what_ to expect, but considering how Harry attended Ouran they had been expecting something perhaps a little more opulent than what greeted them – not that they should have been surprised upon review, it was quite obvious that Harry was nothing like the other students of Ouran and held little love of overly flashy or expensive things.

The living room that Harry had shown them to was cosy for lack of a better word. A fairly small (by their standards) HD TV was perched on a wooden stand with a DVD player, VCR tape player and surround sound system beneath it, hooked up and left in a somewhat messy pile of wires in front of it was a few games consoles in various battered states. Two fairly large bookcases flanked them, one was filled with DVDs, games and CDs while the other was chock full of fiction books in no particular order and in various states of care, though they were all crammed in there rather carelessly. There were two sofas, the most battered, beaten up and one-gust-from-falling-apart objects that either Mitsukuni and Takashi had ever seen in their lives, a winged back chintz chair complete with footstool and a Coffee table were set comfortably around the TV.

It was with the greatest of trepidation that Mitsukuni and Takashi deigned to sit themselves down on one of the battered sofas, only to blink in surprise as they felt themselves sink into what had to be one of the most comfortable seats they had ever felt. The smirk on Harry's face suggested that he knew _exactly_ what they had been thinking before they sat down as he curled up in the old fashioned winged back chair. The whole room was like that, dark rich colours and old fashioned British furnishings, the kind one would have expected in the Victorian era, they even had an old fashioned atlas and brass telescope at the window behind the other sofa, heavy drapes, a wrought iron bird stand and a desk made out of mahogany. Behind Harry however, behind the door and hidden from their first observation of the room was a painting in a gold gilded frame. A picture of a castle and a group of people in front of it, and a rather recognisable Harry stood between a smiling red haired woman who had his eyes and a dark haired man who had his hair and cheeky grin as he tried to fend off an overly excited man who was trying to, they didn't know what he was trying to do but it seemed innocent enough.

Harry glanced behind him, having noticed their attention and smiled slightly.

It was an expression they hadn't seen before, one that was both sad and proud and a little bitter. He didn't offer any explanation as to their identities. Merely gestured to the TV and the stacks of games and films, saying, "Pick your poison. Film or game?"

* * *

By the time Meg came back – spitting mad that Harry had left before she arrived, only to calm down when she saw him home safe and sound with the two Seniors, thinking they had given him a lift back – they were half way through Ocean's 11 and Mitsukuni was absolutely enthralled, Takashi wasn't far off either. Harry however, had fallen asleep, face burrowed into the chair with his arms and legs pulled up, hugging one of the pillows as he dozed.

Shaking her head, the Hufflepuff Alumni merely went upstairs and got changed before heading into the kitchen to make a start on dinner. She wasn't as good a cook as Harry, but she could at least make Pasta Bake and boiled potatoes.

By the time the film ended, everything was ready for dishing up and Harry was shaken awake.

Everyone ate in the living room as the Wizard was actually unable to move much, his joints aching abominably, he felt like a bloody old man and even said as much when Mitsukuni bounded over with a tray and set it in his lap.

The diminutive blond smiled disarmingly at him, "Don't worry Harii-ch- ," The Gryffindor arched an eyebrow at him. " -_Kun_, it's not your fault," the Third Year chirped, quickly remembering his friend's preference not to be referred to as –chan.

The Wizard grunted sourly, he knew it wasn't his fault – Ron had practically beaten it into his head when he went on one of his Guilt Trips. It just didn't stop him from feeling bitter when he needed to have everyone wait on him when he was too weak and pathetic to do it himself.

Something in his expression must have given away his thoughts because when Takashi came over with his food, the quiet Senior bonked him on the head again, "Stupid," he told the smaller male before setting the food down and smiling at him.

Harry huffed but nodded to show that he understood, Mitsukuni giggled and pounced on his cousin, clinging to his waist as he was carted back to the sofas to await his own tray of food as Meg and Takashi carted the plates in through from the Kitchen.

He was glad that someone else understood Takashi's way of speaking, not many people could puzzle out the subtle nuances of his body language and laconic vocabulary.

"_So_," Meg began, in English as she didn't know Japanese, blowing on a twist of pasta, "_How did you hurt your hand?_" she asked, nodding to Harry's bandage.

"_Crushed a tea cup_," he answered flatly.

She frowned slightly, concerned, "_Why? It's not like you to lose control like that. I assume it's why you left, yes?_"

Harry fiddled with his fork for a moment, trying to decide what to say.

"_Tama-chan said something bad,_" Mitsukuni explained, looking apologetic.

"_What kind of bad?_" asked the Gypsy girl.

"_Homophobic bad._" Meg hissed at Harry's flat statement, her fork scraping the plate with a painfully loud screech, making Takashi and Mitsukuni flinch, they knew that Harry had a friend who was a lesbian and was bisexual himself but... they hadn't expected such a strong reaction from her.

She took a deep breath, "_I see. Harry, I'm sorry I put you in that kind of environment_," she told him, looking angry and apologetic.

Harry waved a hand, "_Don't worry about it. Suou just let his mouth run away with him, I doubt even _he_ knows what he was saying. Either way, I'm not rejoining the Host Club. Probably look into Archery or Biathlon,_" he explained lazily.

She sighed, "_It's a shame though. I guess my Tarot Skills have gotten rusty,_" she complained, making Harry's eyebrow shoot up. So that was why she was so determined to see him join her and go to Ouran, something in the cards. She caught his expression and grinned, shaking her head, "_Stop thinking, you've got it wrong,_" she told him chuckling. Harry arched an eyebrow at her, silently requesting an explanation. "_It's true I did a reading. It's true that it said you would be happier in a new place, learning new things with many people. But it never said where or with whom. That was just something I sorted out. Sorry sweetie._"

Harry nodded, "_Least you're honest about it,_" he said.

"_Harii-kun mentioned he taught Self Defence, Meg-chan. What kind?_" Mitsukuni finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him now that they had moved away from the sensitive topic. And unknowingly moving into one that was even more sensitive.

The Gypsy girl hummed thoughtfully, "_It varied to be honest. Escape and Evade, Accuracy and Targeting, Strategy. He more or less gave us the tools and tricked us into _wanting_ to learn more. Sneaky bastard._"

Harry smirked as he chewed on a New Potato.

"_Gang?_" asked the tall Japanese boy, staring unwaveringly at Harry.

The Lycan paused, taking in the odd intensity Takashi was displaying toward him, before putting his fork down and leaning back in his seat. "_Occasionally,_" he admitted, knowing full well what that would mean to the Japanese, "_But not in the way you're thinking of them. Our school was... dangerous for people who didn't fit the preconceived notion of _acceptable_._"

Mitsukuni's eyes widened and the fork in Takashi's hand trembled alarmingly with that little titbit of information.

"_Harii-chan...?_" Mitsukuni asked hesitantly.

"_It's been taken care of, Mitsukuni,_" the green eyed teenager assured him flatly, waving his hand weakly.

A set of chimes went off somewhere in the hall, cutting off any further questioning.

"_Eight O'clock,_" said Meg, "_I'm sorry guys but we're going to have to kick you out now. Healer Akisame doesn't like non-family members around when he makes his visits. Even I have to go and hide in garden while he sees to Harry,_" she explained a trifle bitterly.

The Hosts nodded awkwardly, setting their dirty plates on the coffee table for the servants to deal with – it never crossed their minds that Meg and Harry lived alone and didn't _have_ servants – and getting to their feet.

"_Get better soon_," Takashi told his Classmate with a polite inclination of his head, Mitsukuni nodding vigorously as he fairly crushed Usa-chan to his chest.

"_You'll be at school tomorrow, right?_" he asked.

Harry nodded, suddenly feeling very grey and washed out, making the Hosts wince slightly when they noticed how difficult it was for the ill young man to stay awake or even move. It was as if his joints had rusted over and he was unable to move.

Harry fell asleep before they had even stepped out of the front door.

* * *

Whatever Harry had been expecting at school the next morning, it wasn't an uncomfortable looking Suou Tamaki stood beside his desk holding a paper bag nervously in his hands while trying not to run away from Umehito-san as the Russian leered at him. A quick glance around told him that neither Takashi nor Mitsukuni had arrived and it was too early for the majority of his classmates to have arrived yet.

"Suou, what are you doing here?" Harry asked flatly, he was looking and feeling a lot better compared to yesterday, still under the weather but his skin had some colour to it, he no longer looked like a walking corpse and his joints were fine – they would only begin to ache if it got cold or if he hadn't moved for a while.

"I came to apologise," Tamaki admitted, relief colouring his voice as he scampered away from Umehito.

Harry's eyebrow shot up and the blond flushed slightly, ducking his head and and bowing apologetically as he thrust out the paper bag, "My comments yesterday were entirely out of line, had I any idea that they would have upset you then I would have never even allowed them to pass my lips. You have my most sincerely heartfelt apologies Potter-senpai."

Blinking, Harry numbly accepted the bag, "Suou," he began, trying to figure out what to say before sighing, "I don't much care about what you said, people say shit all the time. What I want to know is if you believe it. Don't apologise for setting my temper off. You shouldn't even _be_ apologising to me. You should be apologising to those girls. True, they were entirely out of line and completely intolerant and I _will_ be having a word with them as well. But just because they behave out of line is no excuse for you to do the same. Their relationship and their beliefs are their business. Just as yours are entirely your own. So please tell me, are you as homophobic as your comments yesterday suggested?" he asked, pushing it all out as quickly as it came, fighting to keep the tremble out of his voice. He hated confrontations like this, they made him sick and made his hands shake, if it came to an all out fist fight then he would be more than capable of it, if he were angry and shouting in an argument with someone he could handle that. But he just hated confronting someone like this. But... it needed to be done. He had to know.

Tamaki spluttered a moment before falling quiet and listening to his Senpai in silence, he felt terrible and guilty because he was _right_. He had failed in his duty as a Gentleman and allowed his temper to run away with him, allowed his mouth to say the first hurtful thing that came to mind – instead of hurting them, he ended up hurting his Senpai who, according to Hani-senpai, did not wish to return to the Host Club because of it.

"I... I have no strong feelings on the subject to be honest. I think... I think the world needs more love and that people should find love where they can," he admitted quietly.

Harry nodded and patted him on the head, "Apology accepted. Now get your butt back to class before you get in trouble," he told the younger man, poking him in the forehead. Tamaki blinked at him in surprise before grinning brightly, relief practically lighting his eyes up as he nodded rapidly – looking a little like an overexcited puppy – before practically scampering out of the room.

Leaving Harry to face the questioning stares of his classmates, to which he ignored with his usual cold nonchalance.

* * *

The day passed quietly enough, Harry did end up having to go and speak with the Vice Principle about his behaviour in class toward that one teacher who royally pissed him off. Luckily though, his past experiences gave him a lot of leeway – even they understood that someone who used to command a small very specialised and very skilled personal army would not take too well to having a _school teacher_ look down their nose at him, let alone insinuate the things that teacher had done. Harry got off scott free, the teacher... not so much.

Music was fun, the Teacher for once allowed them to choose which instruments they wished to – so instead of the trumpet that Harry had been stuck with since his arrival he finally managed to snag himself a Harp. Their task was to play their instruments at the end of the lesson, they could choose any piece they wished but they would be marked on how well they played said piece and how difficult it was.

A lot of the students stuck with the instruments they had been practising with since the beginning, Harry and a few other students were the only ones who selected differently, Mitsukuni cheerfully lunged at the drum kit with a great deal of glee and Harry couldn't help but smile as the teenager banged away at the symbols. The girls cooed with delight and some of the guys shook their heads in confusion, Harry was perhaps one of the few who recognised the rhythm that Mitsukuni was testing and adjusting.

"Harp?" questioned Takashi, the acoustic guitar strap over one shoulder as he studied his classmate and the large peddle harp resting against his shoulder.

Harry grinned, "Yup." He smirked and Takashi arched an eyebrow before smirking as well, the two of them parting, Harry obviously wanted to keep his playing talents a secret until the unveiling at the end of the class.

With the general cacophony of the classroom, Harry sat quietly with the Harp and pondered what to play, he thought about doing a traditional piece of Harp music but that would be a bit boring, everyone would be expecting him to do that. Which meant he was looking at an adaptation of something – his speciality and his favourite, he enjoyed figuring out how to make other things fit. He hummed thoughtfully, running his fingers across the strings, briefly he contemplated '_One Last Wish_' from the original Casper film before shaking his head, it was a little too slow and easy for him. He wouldn't get a very good mark. Spring Nicht by Tokio Hotel was contemplated, he did love that tune and it wouldn't be too difficult to adapt for Harp.

Perhaps something a little more modern... A little pop-rockish? He doubted if anyone in Ouran had heard a Metallica tune, or anything by Nirvana or Linkin Park. Heck, if any of them had even heard of Korn he would don a dress and sing Mary had a Little Lamb for Lucius Malfoy's amusement.

He tested his fingers on the cords, working out in his head which finger would go where and when as well as tuning it – while the instruments at Ouran were as expensive and well maintained as its students, like Harry, the Harp just wasn't quite right. The strings were a little frayed, the notes just a touch too low and the peddles were stiff, in all though, Harry preferred it, it reminded him of his first Harp, that battered old monstrosity Hermione wheeled out of the Lost and Found in the Room of Requirements.

In truth, they only had to play one minute of music, by the time Harry heard his name being called he had only worked out roughly two and a half minutes of the original tune in his head. He had completely missed all the other performances he was so absorbed in his thoughts – at least though he had not missed Mitsukuni or Takashi playing, he would have hated that.

He took a deep breath and arranged himself, ignoring the curious looks he received for taking the battered old harp and the sneer he received from Ayanokoji who had also selected a peddle Harp – she however had gone for a grand old thing with gold leaf inlet and delicate carvings up it. It was a truly handsome instrument. No doubt up to Ouran's stringent standards. Both of them. Unlike scruffy Harry and his battered Peddle Harp.

No matter.

He set his fingers to the strings and began. Narrowing his eyes on the strings as he focused his full attention on the Harp and the song in his head, he knew which notes he had to pull, he knew when and he knew how. The delicate, high pitched notes filled the room, silencing the quiet mutters and occasional twang of an instrument, he started slowly, his fingers slowly travelling down the harp as the notes changed, became faster, rising and falling.

He sang the lyrics in his head, playing the tune as he flicked his fingers across the strings, no longer even feeling the coarse bite of them on the pads of his fingers.

He didn't stop when his minute was up though. He was damn good on the Harp and he wanted the marks to prove it, he continued the song until he ran out of material and then slowly allowed it to peter out in a carefully constructed fashion that didn't seem too abrupt or messy.

He gently pushed the Harp back to its standing position and glanced up then, Ayanokoji's face was twisted in jealous fury, her fingers white knuckled on her Harp, Takashi was smiling ever so slightly, Mitsukuni was practically vibrating in his seat, smiling so broadly it looked like his face was going to split in half. A few of the other students looked surprised, happy, a little put out or jealous but only Ayanokoji and his friends showed any particular strong emotion. He glanced to the Teacher who nodded, scribbling something down on her register, she glanced up and smiled when she caught his eye.

"Very well done Potter-san, I can't say I recognise the tune though. Could you give me the name?" she requested, waving her pen around to indicate she wished to write it down.

"Of course. Its Bring me to Life, the artist is Evanescence," he explained, making her blink slightly.

"Can't say I've heard of them," she admitted, they weren't any kind of classical orchestra that she was aware of.

Harry grinned, "They're a rock band out of America."

The look on Ayanokoji's face was great – he wished he had a camera.

The rest of the Music lesson passed quietly enough, well, as quietly as it could get with Mitsukuni managing to rally up Takashi and Kuze – who was playing the bass Guitar – and creating himself an impromptu rock band. Not surprisingly the little Cake Muncher got a damn good mark, though half of that Harry felt was probably enthusiasm based. Mitsukuni almost killed the drums but he was still very good. Takashi had surprised Harry greatly by doing a cover of a Bryan Adams tune, 'Sound the Bugle Now' from the Disney film Spirit – Stallion of the... he couldn't remember what it was the Stallion of but it was a good film and he enjoyed almost all of the musical numbers in there, a rarity for Harry because he did so very rarely like Disney films.

Music was the last class of the day so Harry walked with both Takashi and Mitsukuni to the Third floor Music room so he could tell Kyouya about his resignation, what he didn't expect to see was Hikaru and Kaoru in drag and affixing a spray of bright flowers to the back of Tamaki's elaborate outfit. He goggled.

Even worse was when Mitsukuni started getting dressed into an equally elaborate dress while Takashi donned an outfit similar to Kyouya. It seemed as though none of them were particularly foolish enough to waste the money in buying Harry an outfit, whether or not because Kyouya knew of hi intentions to quit or was just aware that there was no way in heaven or hell that Harry would have ever allowed himself to wear something like that willingly. It was just too... it looked like something Draco Malfoy would have pranced around in at a formal function.

As it stood, Harry just... found somewhere to sit and wait out the insanity so he could speak to the Dark King in private – he really didn't want to deal with the Puppy's (Tamaki's) fit when he found out of his intentions to leave, he would feel even worse about the comment earlier and think it was his fault that Harry was leaving and... and... argh, he felt guilty now.

Harry hated feeling guilty.

Eventually, he heard the voices of the Zuka Club outside and frowned, he sincerely hoped that this stunt wouldn't be considered an insult. Even though he was the same age as the Hosts, he felt older, he acted older, when he watched them frolicking, speaking, he couldn't help but cringe at how unintentionally cruel and rude they could be. Especially Tamaki and the twins, even Kyouya had his moments and of course Haruhi was so blunt and honest that she ruffled more than a few feathers without realising.

The reactions from the girls was... about as much as Harry had expected. But Tamaki's reasoning for their behaviour came as a surprise, Two Bird with One Stone? Free extras? At least Haruhi found their, surprisingly touching, gesture nice. The girl dissolved into giggling as Mitsukuni spoke to her and silenced the Zuka Girls as they were about to climb back onto their soap box.

He couldn't say he found the results of this insane endeavour surprising, Haruhi had gone through all the effort of enrolling here at Ouran for a reason, especially on a scholarship it would have been insanely difficult. Why on earth would she agree to transfer to Lobelia when she could have easily passed the entrance requirements without having to waste her time here? Besides, having the Ouran seal of approval on whatever walk of life she chose would have half a galaxy more clout than a Lobelia seal. That was just the way the cookie crumbled.

He shook his head and chuckled slightly, helping himself to a cup of tea.

By the end of the Club Meeting, he ended up getting roped into helping Mitsukuni and the twins get out of their dresses as well as wrestling the spray of feathers from Takashi – he never actually got a chance to inform Kyouya of his intentions and by the time Takashi was offering to give him a lift ("Home?" he offered, arching an eyebrow at Harry as they walked to the door of the club room, Mitsukuni on his shoulders. "Oh? Uh, sure why not," Harry agreed after a mental calculation on whether or not he had enough money for a train ticket) it had completely skipped his mind.

He had ended up having more fun than he thought he would have that afternoon with the Hosts.

**

* * *

**

And the end of Chapter Five.

**I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!**

**Real life, as I'm sure my Facebook Followers will know, has just been repeatedly kicking me in the teeth. Not to mention all Plotbunnies for this story decided to take a unanimous holiday to Liverpool – I only got them back when I followed them up there this weekend and fished them out of Albert Dock and various locations around Liverpool One (and found out my mother was actually born in the living room of a pub in West Kerby, on the otherside of the river to Albert Docks. I always thought she was cornish but apparently she only moved there when she was four. Funny the things you learn).**

**But yes. I will be paying more attention to this. I promise. **

**All music links will be posted on my profile along with fanart pieces – should you wonderful, wonderful people feel up to doing me any (HINT HINT NUDGE NUDGE CAN I MAKE THIS MORE OBVIOUS MAKE ME FANART PLEASE! XDDDD I like receiving it but please don't ever think I will hold my stories hostage for it, its just something nice for me so you guys don't have to do me any. I will however pout and go and grow mushrooms in my emo corner ;D).**

Araceil


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